Hashtag Poem

“The mountain has overturned

and captured two shepherds

and captured two shepherds.

Two shepherds, two friends.”

- Bulgarian Folk Song

In the funhouse mirror

watch your devilfish release,

sing self bone,

writing the gospel of you

on Facebook.

At noon, you hack off your toes

to fit a ruby slipper.

The blood transubstantiates

into emojis.

At twilight, we walk the tiny perimeter

of our phones

rheumy with contempt

for the vast majority

of Kardashians,

coldly comforted

authorities on nothing;

denatured, unable to eat a whole

sandwich

until a pensive stranger has shared it.

Let us not, you and I,

crest a hilltop

and watch fireflies pinwheel

through the night.

Let us not see the Indian Ocean.

Let us not visit Gloucestershire.

At dusk, chubby mothers are

wriggling in a heap of pins.

My eggshell skull

opens in an empty theatre

and closes the same night.

Beach all the kayaks

dynamite the bouncy castles

forget the rules of hide and seek.

Our little girls need to commit

shame suicide

voluptuous dolls

bent backwards

raped by the algorithm.

Let’s live-tweet every grain of sand!

Maybe your ambitious avatar

and my ambitious avatar

can transfix each other

make cruel love

by the light of the silvery phone,

settle into black mud

solitude together,

two bit-players in a sea of circuits.

Let’s become the dark crabs

we were born to be.

Hashtag everybody is going to die

much sooner than they think.

That’s a trick life plays on us.

Real soon.