David Sheppard

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(The following poem has never been published.)

Silo

 There is no stillness here,
Above ground is pale in its desolation
A charred ceiling for blue coats
To feed on the silence.

Here, moles work a cement hole
With a mock Heroshima smile
Beneath a world in darkness,
 A backening world.

But this glitter-barred mole is a mother
Cuddling its draught terror
With a fondling of metal genitals:
Two wrench-based bearings

And a silent trembling sheath
Harboring a blast in its shaft
To the darkening skies
In an orgasm of murder and madness.

Desolation,
Cusped corner of a smile,
How you suck
On the minds of ritual, like a brother.
 

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© 2008 by David Sheppard. All right reserved.