Raised up from soft white dust,

sticks for brains, rocks for eyes,

built with the boys I trust,

head, shoulders, knees, and toes


I dove in your snow guts.


Sticks sliced brains, rocks rammed eyes

ground apart by scorched hands.

Knees, shoulders, head, and toes

thinned into threshed lake sands.


Scorched hands ground you apart.

he should have loved your

thinned and threshed sandy heart.

He will smell my rancor.


I should have loved your

smiley face, Junior, but

he must taste my rancor.

Witness my shout and bout.


Watch me dive in his guts.


Smiley face Junior, spout

my burden, this fresh trust.

Comfort my shout and bout.

Sink back to soft white dust.


by: Lukas Forester

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