I think they dropped it this morning
I awake in a warm pot with heirloom carrots and herbs
de Provence asking what’s for dinner
Outside my window is New York except
today it is Laramie Wyoming
I am told it is like this everywhere
No casualties
more a staggering
casualness
Televisions check their phones
A march of ghosts necromance a dead flag
A reanimated cheeto puts on business clothes
I pick up a fresh new hermeneutics for the looney truth
and open it like a head of cabbage
They dropped it I think
exactly 6:37 a.m. I think
October 23rd I think
Though some theorists suggest it all began
last Thursday
I am of no particular mind
Can’t recall the drop or the
thereafter or anything behind
the present thought
which feels ornate but
might as well be a can of soda
Wyoming is nice this time of year
with its trees of smoke and
feral pigs and the smell
of live meat beginning to braise
Eric Tyler Benick is the author of the chapbook Fox Hunts (2015). He is co-founder and editor at Ursus Americanus Press, a publisher of chapbooks, and Assistant Poetry Editor at Lumina Journal. His poems have appeared in The Vassar Review, Reality Beach, Vanilla Sex, Birds Piled Loosely, decomP, Souvenir, Fruita Pulp, Fog Machine, and Gramma. He is a current MFA candidate for Poetry at Sarah Lawrence College. He lives in the Bronx.
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