by Edwin Torres
Began the year by seeing the rat uncheesed,
freedom is a destiny braved.
Soily-clothed emperor's bum,
nudely chewed by the anals of reversism
afooted by numerology,
I make my way to an alternative January.
I start every century
on the same date.
in the upside-down year.
Left elbow throbs with leftover maturity,
last part of me that doesn't want to let go.
My inner chick's a gosling
spreading unfound winglets, by way
of pain, in said left limb joint.
I arrive to the offering, nobly beheaded
by the waiting throng—annointed by despair—rat says:
Welcome, and make sure you support the mob
better yet—reject everything...it's better off!
To which I respond:
I've come to see how the other half lives.
Better you should see them die—says rat—
same difference! I had once a healthy diet, fluidity
composed a major portion of my day, no swine.
A mere utterance of the bovine sally—was enough
to last a season, afraid of no path!
This newfound approach to my tattered jubilee
lasted a composite of 40 days—in homage
to that twin-beast keeper floating his misguided barge.
As a matter of fact, the only vice I missed—dare I drone,
the one which claimed this broken bod back to its
previous owner...was writing!
Yes, I'd completely given up the sword
when I started eating healthy; physically, I was magnificent!
Tip top, the entire cadaver—a destiny braved; mentally...
I had grown an extra femur—an extended weasel
protruding, from the rear of my intestine
through the skin and out the chickawa!
Although I cared for this uninvited guest as I would
my own grail, the 3 am feedings grew tiresome.
I decided it was time to relinquish control
and carnivate this herbivore—by way of pen.
I now stand before you complete—trashed
This event proceeded, without me, a mere
eight days ago. I am currently unhealthy
and writing—as opposed to a past state!
I believe in a life that exists presently, I am
implicit in motion, and I've yet to welcome
the new year. All these things can be rectified...
Edwin Torres Author Page
Pub. May 2000