Robert Beveridge

Cardboard Enema

when he came back from the water.
When he came. When he
came back. The water
was cold, white, wet.
He came back and he, too,
was cold. He came white,
wet. Back from the water.
Awash. Back in streams
of butter sauce. Wet.
Came back. Wide.
When he came back from the water.
Spaced. Rigid. Cold.
When he came back his skin
had turned the color of aluminum.
He rubbed himself with coal.
She was slim, petite,
the naiad he had searched
for. When he came. Came back
from the water.
The coal melted him and they
were one. No longer cold.
No longer rigid. Wet, red
with friction. Came back red.
Aluminum enveloped coal,
became one. When he came.
When he came back from the water.

 


Robert BeveridgeRobert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Pulsar, Tessellate, and Scarlet Leaf Review, among others.