broken pages lay in a hospital bed
whispering to author,
he is next on my list.
i sharpen bic knives
on the bodies of dead poets.
my serial days are in flight,
any word uttered
any letter pushed to pad
any thought materialized in a poet’s head
i’m hunting
author’s who dare to write.
i murdered fourteen letters of the alphabet
so the remaining
only spell my name.
i eat evidence
and lie to scribes.
one poet gets slick
speaks in mixed tongues,
i bite it off
tear up the dictionary,
disassemble its structure
and drown poets
in an inch of water.
