Unfoundlings


I.

Conflate the severed head with what it said
when living : time rhymes, be you emperor

or executioner too apathetic
to swing the axe. The extant texts expand

& contracts get spun into nothing
that hasn’t been sworn before,

some clauses insubordinate
& others just terminal.

II.

Grateful to be here, grateful for the walk-on part.
Unrehearsed, you’re caught with the scowl

of someone who’s forgotten the camera’s
always on. Cash in bonds to don the coveted

invisibility cloak only to get offended
when it works too well : nothing preserved

but your signature in the register, stray prints
on the chaise from when you tried to tidy up.

III.

The courier returns with script revisions : red ink
on red paper, read twice but not quite deciphered.

An escape room based on pacing &
repetition, finally the right vibration to saunter

through walls. Empty patio, empty gazebo.
Wildfire smoke calls off the ice cream social,

segues right into overpass
collapse.

IV.

Between the hospital & the graveyard,
carve a hollow in a willow, bury the low howl

of the boy praised for waiting patiently, no trouble
at all but he was & was too much & grew too often

dissolute. An appendix removed in unremembrance,
sacrificial liver in lieu of souvenir.

V.

Dark chocolate, black cherry : the simpler,
safer pleasures. Captions close.

If you can’t reroll stats, at least get the refill.
Moderate constitution, insufficient

wisdom, charisma limited
to grim jokes about oblivion. At low dosage,

tolerable mostly. Oat latte’s slower
voltage.

VI.

Power line’s electrical thrum, tarp tossed over
fire pit’s impromptu reflecting pool.

On the plosive’s other side, at a scrupulous remove.
To ever be so elegantly whelmed. By piecemeal

& patchwork, the movie becomes
serialized in miniseries. The various -mancies

& occlusions. Summer’s damp palm, plum in bowl
almost softened. Hand on shoulder, hand

on lower back. Thinking to seek thought’s stoppage,
at least obliquely. Sunscreen’s sheen not washing off.


Chris McCreary is the author of several books and chapbooks, including the chapbook Maris McLamoureary's Dictionnaire Infernal (Empty Set Press), co-authored with Mark Lamoureux. More recent work appears in Apartment Poetry, Cul-de-sac of Blood, DumDumZine, Resurrection Magazine, Sortes, Vulnerary, and Works & Days. He lives in South Philadelphia.