Grace Chia
Goya under the influence of a 1998 Shiraz: Saturn II
last night, furiously, I dunked a chalice
of my own blood and grew heathen, hulk-like
rampaging through the radioactive streets of
a mental spell under siege;
uprooted some forests, drained the lagoons,
then taunted the volcanoes to boil over
(they did).
the planets realigned. The moon played hopscotch
with his sister sun while the dinos roared for the last time,
then slept soundly, bone naked on the soft mound.
Earth skated round the rink many times
while hapless Mars held on for the ride.
mammals on four stood up to walk on twos.
metal made blades – was found to be useful.
tools caught food; raped then made food
prostitutes for power.
politics bounced off the walls
from meatballs to basketballs –
as mongers of jackals scavenged
the remains of leftover suppers.
through all this, I peeled my ears to the ground
waiting for a thunderous walk
waiting for Colossus to mash my brains
(he didn’t).
in one drop of a crystalline tear
the labyrinthine stew of my brains
was ravaged, swallowed whole.
in the alcohol of a coherent self
my senses plummet and plunder.
starved, I gouge out entrails,
pop an eye then devour my organs.