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POETRY

“Enemy Lines,” read by John Martino.

Enemy Lines

Hang your chic clichés on a peg
before proceeding to the quiche.
The strip mall searches are quick
and painless. The fingers fit like

a rubber glove. Feel free to kick,
free to shove. Just don’t mistake
this grim insertion for Love.
Now follow the bouncing skull.

This way, folks, to “The Resurrection.”
Ticket holders on the right. All
others pay cash. Photos are fine,
but no tripod, no flash. Son of Man!

Come out from under that red rock!
Stop simply punching the clock!
Look up and smell the noses,
pig snouts dangling from a hook,

drooling for pearls and poses.
Arise! Look pathic. Put your butchered
hands together like a closed book
of quaint and forgotten lore. Still,

the seeded clouds pass by, rainless,
poor. Will you trade what’s in
the black box for what’s behind
the green door? Quoth the brainless,

“Evermore.”

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John Martino is a writer, educator, and avid traveler currently residing in Hong Kong. Some of his wayward poems have found a home at North Dakota Quarterly, Another Chicago Magazine, Packingtown Review, and The Southern Quill, among others. He is the Executive Editor at Home Planet News (homeplanetnews.com).

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Image: La Résurrection by James Tissot. Public domain.