by Sean Kilpatrick
Hi, kids! I got a garden in my penny.
I’m the creepy crawly mayor
popular since spoiling.
I teethe exit signs.
Noxious puddings swim in me.
Such uber-magnetized defoliants glide
my conjecture like moons we can’t share.
We are glued to our oldness
and smiling through crowds.
I found all of you in a hamper.
Now we share one throat.
Good thing I ejaculated a coffin
inside your testimony.
There’d be none of you left.