The Traitor

by Les Gottesman

 


No crummy Bastille this

house arrest.

Just you behind the ear.

I’m mixing

 

myself a Slashed Mattress.

Then shapes climb stairs

and find my room.

See this card?

 

Yes.

Pour me an election, airbag.

To the nation now playing

at the crossroad where

 

all the lonely people fry—

it is a red life—but

not every boy wants

to be a marine.

Allison Scarpulla

Copyright © 2016, Otis Nebula Press. All rights reserved.

0TIS NEBULA PRESSHome.html