“Shut”–David C. Bellusci

Crossing tracks needle wires
razor me shut.
Stoned road trips me shut.
Blackness curls around me
like a fat python.
Forced against a barbed trunk
my sweaty hands lose grip.
I am sucked into the chamber.
Floor metals separate
and I drop shut.
Down, swinging steel-blade corners,
climbing, thrown pillar to pillar
the gates shut.
Sudden drop, I fall out, fall down,
fall in shut.
A flicker of red fire, I tremble,
I see the walls shut.
Tightening me, I turn and stare,
the crinkle-skin face glares back shut.
My ears twitch the thunder bolt,
kashleck.

DAVID C. BELLUSCI was born in Vancouver, British Columbia. He completed his B.A. in English Literature at the University of Toronto, his M.F.A. in Creative Writing at the University of Nebraska, and he holds a Ph.D. in Philosophy. He has lived in South Africa, Italy and France, and his poetry has been published in Canada, UK, Australia, and New Zealand.

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