I cut my throat with a scissors
So I could get rid
Of my edges.
At the center of the frame
There is a picture
Of suicide.
Now I am getting down to the truth.
I am at the burning
Charcoal in the grill
Right beneath the dripping
Hamburger fat.
They say you don't go
To heaven
If you commit suicide.
What do I care?
I'm up to my hips in fat
And I'm on fire
At the barbecue.
I like it here
Among the kindling and lighter
Fluid.
I am a fan of summers cookouts.
I am refreshment
For lost buns and rejects
From lost congregations.
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Rio:
A Journal of the Arts