Fatal Gratitude

Philip Newton is a writer and musician living in Oregon. His novel, Terrane, was published in September by Unsolicited Press, and his poetry has appeared in magazines from Portland, Oregon to Bangalore, India.

Fatal Gratitude

To our great delight we have determined
That it is your job to be emptied out
And deposited right there
Where the stiff-legged patron staggers
We are sure this news will delight you
As much as it has our staff and donors

There is no appeal
We sit grateful for your mortality
And all that it means
For our shimmering futures
Teal self-adoring mollusks
With labial moans
And a sphincter of pure brass
Selling cans of excrement
Please give until we hurt
Now tell them what they’ve won

For this week only
A diamond wheel and a
Crust that once was stroked by
The next dead Elvis
A hole with a bucket in it
Let me help you

On behalf of our sponsors
In memory of our mothers
Who would be so proud
And our fathers
Who never shared their grease with us
In order that we might be filled with curious appetites
In the name of
Our founder, exquisite guiding corpse
And professor
The one who helped us forge from
The merely insufferable the actually intolerable
We take pleasure in announcing last year’s
Near Miss Universe

Please hold your applause until the end

One thought on “Fatal Gratitude

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