Robert Beveridge

sweep of hand

puppets flung

to batter


and table corners

lie cracked


bleeding on the floor


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?


bleach cleanses

acid cures

dying puppets

on the floor

bodies cooling

couldn’t give a damn

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise ( 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