Rare Meat (audio only)
Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.
Poems by Kenward Elmslie are used by permission of The Estate of Kenward Elmslie.
Could be inching my way across moth turbulence
(wrong country? Honduras?—No! No! Nepal!)
due to a motor disturbance in some itinerary program computer
that failed to take into account my aversion to hot weather decay
seven men sat
very low in their awareness
couldn’t dent the little bus
uh, up, us
up, us, uh
women and chicks
maimed in the bedroom
Laundry so near the ocean bothered Frank.
The lack of medicine on the shelves
also confused his emotional stance.
A moth fluttered against his leg.
A gust of wind made his Pepsi keen
as its foam trickled down inside.