In Poetry on January 23, 2012 at 10:19 pm

Every year, reinforce
your pulleys and bootstraps;
regild your lions; distill the sweet
of your brew. Everyone needs more
at a higher price. They can’t say no.
Your scales fall away, replaced
by nubbins of black plumes.
Your seams split open and glisten,
wetly. Listen; there is still time
to become richer, more powerful,
more wicked. You will own
slaughterhouses where the meat
is never inspected.


F.J. Bergmann frequents Wisconsin and fibitz.com, functioning (so to speak) as the poetry editor of Mobius: The Journal of Social Change (mobiusmagazine.com). She has no academic literary qualifications, but hangs out a lot with people who do. Her fourth chapbook, Out of the Black Forest, is forthcoming from Centennial Press any year now.


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