Sex and Murder Magazine

By Joseph M. Gant

stay tuned for
scenes of drunk clowns
tickling your kids.

so many drapes of human
flesh like tapestries flapping
in the empty wind and smacking
too close to one another, spawning
and laughing and filling an empty world
with more dirty sheets
for life to clean like laundry.

fucking. smiling. dumping children
like so much deification in the snow.
from cancerous wombs and spreading
the stars of youth, so innocent, unwilling—
propped on Pogo’s knee to rot
in portraits taken, quaint, forever captured.

but your children are no longer yours to have.