Robert Beveridge
sweep of hand
puppets flung
to batter
walls
and table corners
lie cracked
broken
bleeding on the floor
bleach
bleach will kill it
stomach acid
saliva immobilizes
like premature burial
hypodermic bleach
needle full of clorox
in the upper thigh
kill the virus
kill the man
better off dead anyway
rather take a gun
to my head
than live with hiv
he said
what’s that?
bitch
bleach cleanses
acid cures
dying puppets
on the floor
bodies cooling
couldn’t give a damn
Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry on unceded Mingo land (Akron, OH). Recent/upcoming appearances in Ez.P.Zine, Agapanthus Collective, and Throats to the Sky, among others.
Instagram: no_gods_exist