Volume > Issue > The Chic and the Dead

The Chic and the Dead

A POEM

By T.J. Kelly | September 1983

Rocks that block the mouths of tombs

Give sermons of great gravity

On the benefits of dumping wombs

To save the giants of the sea.

Procrustes breaks the limbs of Christ

To fit Him in His resting place;

“Fins and tails are underpriced

Big bellies will not save our race.

There is no room on earth for us

Who spoil it for those coming after,

Send babies off without a fuss.”

(To the sound of God’s and whales’ deep laughter.)

Enjoyed reading this?

READ MORE! REGISTER TODAY

SUBSCRIBE

You May Also Enjoy

Envy of the Empty Air

Of what do they dream

— the white-robed monks?

while we

with half-shaped forms

from…

Sonnet III

O  Lord, what notion of hyperbole.

What willed and wild imagining was born

When Adam,…

Herring Gulls

They quarrel in low tide mud

Over scraps of rotten food;

They rest on fishhouse…