Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Final Issue 2018
Seasoned and Sliced
j/j hastain
Juliet Cook


Another misplaced phallic symbol
to ram into the mud.

This barbecue pit also serves
special coffee.

This fire pit is not for burning witches.

Why must we narrow it down
to hot or cold?


Ripped out stitches, glitches,
grenadine cocktails
mixed with lead. Are we

even interested in other people’s crossroads
or crossword puzzle tricks or why
they are wearing their cross
upside down?

We are too busy trying to
cum in the light become a season’s
starry wish or something to glean
from another gory horror movie scene.


Another barbecue pit filled with
human flesh.

Some people will eat it,
some will photograph it
for research purposes.

Some people will run away screaming
and then the next day,
they’ll pretend it never happened.

They will convince themselves
it was a dream because
they can’t remember what the burning flesh smelled like.

About j/j hastain About Juliet Cook

Previous Poem | Next Poem