Art

Julia 5 – Bernard Cohen

Julia’s fate, her fate. Her liquid metal
voice, sebaceous and gilding. Turned
away from me heart-in-eye, hid in the
corner. Saying my name into the wall.

They’re going to eat you alive suburbia.
They’re going to broaden your shoulders.
They’re going to crown you as fiction. But
where is the eye of the cross?

Pupils in the shape of one.

Of course I nested, I peed blood, waiting
for the cop car to come. Waiting for the
ambulance to flip, dope happy I, mutant
joyless.

Stochastic now, stupid vocal runs for no
reason. Eloped and at large. I felt nothing.
what choice did I have? Tapped and
drifted, I took absinthe and a disco nap.