we work for the pope
by Ken Taylor
we’re vatican assassins.
everybody has a black
belt and carries a gun.
i can use a blender. i can
use a vacuum cleaner.
the last time i used? what
do you mean? i used my
toaster this morning.
shut up. stop. move
forward. i have a different
constitution. that was the
america i was raised in.
if you are part of my family
i will love you violently.
when i’m fighting a war,
there’s no room for
sensitivity. that’s the code
and we all live by it. my
success rate is 100 percent.
do the math.
dying is for fools. amateurs.
i’ve been a veteran of
the unspeakable. if people
could just read behind
the hieroglyphic. you’ve
been given magic. you’ve
been given gold. look
at these sad trolls. it’s
funny how sheep rhymes
with sheep.
there are parts of me
that are dennis hopper.
(clearly he didn’t bring
gum for everyone.) i am
battle-tested bayonets.
i don’t have burnout in
my gear box. i am special
and i will never be one
of you. where there were
four, there are now three.
i’m not recovering like
some pussy. i can’t make
up hernia. what was she
doing with a shrimp fork
in her purse? rock bottom?
that’s a fishing term. what’s
the cure, medicine? the first
one’s free, the next one goes
in your mouth. if you can
bring me a souvenir from
that moment your father
locked you in the closet,
bring it to me.
MiPOesias 