Susan Isla Tepper

Take Shit

insidious flower

certain cultures burn

this black orchid

to make heat.

Rub in the dog's nose.

 

You’ve risen

through unthawed ground.

I’ve smelt it before:

in languishment

while I remained

detached and

bombs went off

 

and other times

as bones

and once when

I was simple grass 

 

Unconsciously

you trod on me

took a piss

against a tree

zipped

then crumpled bills

in your hand.

Laughter—

letting the wind take them.

Making the blind gesture.

Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty years published writer in all genres.  Her current project is an Off-Broadway Play on the subject of art and life.