LLOYD WALLACE

a surgeon removes her own shadow

a boy trapped in a block of ice

is tossed off the side

of an ocean liner

there is not one kind

of astonishment

the mind is the world

growing disgusted with itself

i have no answer

to the question of a mandrill

drinking from a pool

of printer ink

a lion’s body washing

up on starfish beach

its belly full

of math

i am not shocked

by the delicate fire

glistening

in the eyes of the dead

this is the world

a soldier loads a musket

full of molars

breathes

then points it at the moon

the moon is a beautiful toe
floating asleep
on the wrinkled Atlantic
eternity beats
in the background
while I feed myself
spacemeat
and antler jelly
look at me
go it’s midnight
i survived
the ridiculous past
and found an even more
goofable future
where the clouds
eat meat
and the hearts of men
are soda cups
full of old
deflated stars
i’m headed for you
death
you’re glistening
like a field made of mirrors
where i can walk
and see only myself

Lloyd Wallace is an MFA student at George Mason and an editorial coordinator for Poetry Daily. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in FENCE, Peach Mag, the Washington Square Review, and elsewhere. You can find him on Twitter @jockeycornsilk or at his website lloydwallace.com.