Reuters photo
By
Alejandro Escudé
Hell Unseen Through a Peep Hole
Hot after eating our better halves
who surrendered to bullets that came
like piglets sniffing at knee caps
—oink, oink, oink went the bullets
in the skies. Pairs of cowboy boots
and trucker hats turned to angels,
thick hinges like wings busted open,
hell unseen through a peep hole
like a raging forest fire, long guns
like thin, black crocodiles wading
in a purple pond. Pistons of death!
Hoses of pain! God’s will? The man
knew his guns: how well they obeyed
that night, feud-eons pouring forth
from a gold tower, the Vegas sky
a dog asleep, a sonic graveyard,
a country sheared off the country.
Alejandro Escudé
Alejandro Escudé’s first book of poems, My Earthbound Eye, was published in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.
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