by Jay Rafferty
I am Theseus,
hand outstretched in the dark,
touched on all sides by a lifetime
of bottled bovine breaths
in a cold fear that only
the hunted have known.
I am Twain, tapping my toe, watching
the wilderness above for
the blazing flash I rode in
on to reappear.
I am Vincent,
guzzling a gullet of
yellow acrylic like it was Chardonnay,
like it was a sunset in bloom,
like it was the house at Arles.
I am jack, my mind, splattered,
like chunks of strawberry jam trailing from the tail of a Ford Lincoln.
Ich bein ein Berliner;
I am a jelly doughnut
I am —
Jay Rafferty is the poetry editor of Sage Cigarettes Magazine.
