Chris D Aechtner

Details | Slam Poem |  |

The Gardener: A Soft Slam With Flowers

Fillet rhyme’s flesh (except for two remaining
mnemonic muscles)

to see if my skeletons can stand under their own duress
without leaning on gangsterisms and a pocket full of shells.

I have folded the katana four thousand times within my mind—
unsheathed from my eyes, it rides brainwaves,

mulching detritus into fertilizer 
for the seeds I plant in the ruins of your violence.

With every shot you fire,
I plant a flower in the casing, adding more photosynthesis
to turn your smog back into oxygen.

Your "just kidding" is a boomerang-bullet,
its true intentions covered in paint 
that was "Made in China"—

as it flies back ‘round towards your maw,
the paint peels off, and your "just kidding"
comes skidding to a halt (there’s the remaining
mnemonic muscle).

More and more people see your intent beneath the surface,

untiltwentythousandpeopleseeyouforwhatyoutrulyarebutonly
thebravehavestoppedkissingyourbackbacon,

and you are left in the echo-reverb of your boomerang ballistics,
continuously shooting yourself, 
blaming others for pulling the hair-trigger,

until your words drain-out so badly,
the supposed life-force in your syllables
is a bluff floating on the fear of those who are too weak
to pull the intravenous filled with your "just kidding"



June 6th, 2015