This week, a poem from Terry Wolverton’s Ruin Porn.




The afterlife was a blur.
If there was beauty there, or trouble,
I didn’t know. I was tempted
not to stop at all—so much speed
in the cereal bowl; a thousand miles
from jail to being stardust
inside the galaxy’s polka dot
refrigerator. I felt I was trespassing
on this city of death. I tasted
its sour coffee, bounced on beds
of sky. It wasn’t for me.
I had never prayed to the pointy hats.
On the other side of the door
were pickles and chocolate, money
and fire. I had to escape,
blackbirds my navigation device.
Maybe I would burn for it later,
but until that time,
I would not wonder, but sing.


TERRY WOLVERTON is the author of eleven books of poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction, most recently Ruin Porn, a new collection of poems.

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