Michael BERNSTEIN

the rot to light


up for
it—


the de-
mon
push
tough


on my
skin,
a vol-
ume of
gore.
festers


the
names
wrath
takes—


ex-
pels its
sherking
host.O


tenure in
knots,
each hour


a dragged,
cloaked
botch,drawn
up




from worse
wells,damn-
able.kill
it


now,the
flood to
snuff
sense:


gan-
grene for
yr vision
shore—


gears’ pitch
all frantic


working,
worked



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