Voidz Magazine

Soviet poster, 1975

 

For October glory 

I spurned a break

for my wife’s

funeral reception. 

I have ascended

to labor reverie.

After turning thirty

lachrymose stings

and the mirror

reflected hammer

sprouts from both 

acromions and metal 

sickles from the 

sanctum. By thirty-nine,

hammers rose to each

intertragic notch

and operated

independently

manipulated

by tentacle sickles.

Factory boss

elevated me

to the blackest

corner to preserve

excessive power.

Voice box only 

screeches

industrial squalor

so I interact

with comrades

via surplus 

centimeter-

wide penny- 

paper ribbons.