Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.

new orleans

in new orleans,
they forget the dances of their forefathers
on purpose

the charleston becomes a way of taking your coke,
to cook it with cayenne

waltzing means something unspeakable

that is,
until the gypsy dancers show up
in from wherever else,
start performing
legs like swans, hands spiraling back to touch each other’s ghosts
gasping for air while they spin
their audience breathless
seeing god for the first time

they teach the heathens,
pull the smirks off their asshole faces,
then leave.


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