Thursday, February 11, 2021

No Picnic by Mickey J. Corrigan

Oh little red hood
feeder of bodies
fantasies and lusts
cheerleader for lone wolves
yes, it is true what you say
their privilege will be
your life's doing, undoing
your heart's beaten desire.

For you to wield the pen
of legend, greatness
you'll need experience
that is, a great man
to take your pulpy heart
in his hairy paws 
and squeeze, squeeze
crushing it, oh
yes you must hurt, bleed
bones broken, bruises greening
throat raw, eyes drip dripping
your pale organs swollen 
in their thin black bags
the slit pain of paring knives
the red gush of loss.

Oh yes, dear hooded one
your awful tragedy
you must wring that dirty rag
with fast-typing hands
make beauty from heartbreak
from little smiling hooks
leave a trail of black clots
your veins full of invisibles
the pulsing wound of being
a woman in a man's world
prey for the hungry wolves
you need to become you.



Originally from Boston, Mickey J. Corrigan writes tropical noir with a dark humor. Novels include Project XX about a school shooting (Salt Publishing, UK, 2017) and What I Did for Love, a spoof of Lolita (Bloodhound Books, UK, 2019). In 2020, Grandma Moses Press released the poetry micro-chapbook Florida Man. The Physics of Grief puts the fun back in funerals while taking a serious look at the process of mourning (QuoScript, UK, 2021).


No comments:

Post a Comment

born naked die the same by Keith Pearson

we built our house from rusted car parts and animal scraps. water runs downhill where we sleep. from our bed we can see the city float at ni...