Jesse Miksic
Get me out your mouth,
heretic,
though I love a reader
It is a reader who makes me
(who chews my viscous silence
into the sounds of an unhinged animal)
These lines, a body and you
Furrowed brow licking fingers
Free this script from all shelves
to where it becomes a cascade
of fluids, nightshade sanguine,
Tainted with your illness of
bilious associations —
read, read
You, steward, oarsman across
the subtle sea of
scribbled anonymity,
Listen closely to my gratitude,
The supplication
of words freed
from the void, a
purity deformed,
a scraping innocence destroyed
and hear the curses,
see the
signs
The hex that rises up
Between the lines.
***
Jesse Miksic is a graphic designer and writer living in Peekskill, New York. He spends his life writing poetry, nursing unfinished projects, and having adventures with his wonderful wife and daughter. Recent and forthcoming placements include Heron Tree, Drunk Monkeys, Liminality, Praxis Magazine Online, and others.