Feature Creatures
alone, the mortician plays
a facial reconstruction game
and calls it “Mr. Potato Dead”
the corpses skin like spuds
and he makes the freaks his friends
but when the Picasso-faced
cut-ups haunt his daydreams
and threaten to pull him apart
all he can say in his defense
is that he turned the other cheek,
over and over again
Posted by Michael Arnzen | July 18th, 2005
Dept.: Gorelets: Unpleasant Poems | Permalink
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