|Arsenic Lobster poetry journal||
on the back of an alligator loosed
from the sewers of Southern California.
Don’t book any reservations. Don’t bother
with GPS. You won’t need a map.
You will know the way by the obsidian slit,
the third eye atop the gator’s corrugated pate.
Use that like a compass. Follow the needle.
A series of impenetrable myths
will lead you onward—to me—my friend.
I have set out from Ohio, from Athens or Akron,
where the local folklore indicates that
all things lost
are eventually returned.
Just be sure to bring enough cash. Just be sure
to travel light. When you arrive, rise up
from your reptilian chariot.
Glittered and tremendous, greet me as your sister god—
as the arm of your arm, the hand of your hand.
Let us take the sunset in our teeth,
and tear free all the birds in our blood.
Blessed are we, my twin, to be empresses of the badlands.
About Sunshine LeMontree