Beast In The Forest
By John Grey
A work shirt can’t disguise a hairy chest.
And hands in pockets can only
keep claws a secret for so long.
I can curse all I want.
I can growl myself to tears.
There’s no denying my history.
With the moon in charge,
I’m ripped and ragged,
a belligerent wanderer.
I’ve half a face,
my arms burst muscle,
and my legs don’t know running
from loping on all fours.
The young fear me.
Their folks hunt me.
The preacher says I am sin made flesh
and must be destroyed.
So, ripped jeans, dirty collar,
I’m in the throes of feverish hunger,
hell on my breath
and prey scattered, elusive.
I don’t kill to eat
though I do gnaw on the carcass.
I kill for appeasement.
And I am never fully appeased.
Leona And The Dead Man's Eyes
By John Grey
I assure you, they're just eyes.
They sit on the mantle
with as much flesh and bone
as the ceramic duck,
the Atlantic City souvenir.
You say they follow you
as you walk around the room.
So don't walk around the room.
Save a dead man's eyes the exercise.
Two-Headed Baby
By John Grey
A baby's born with two heads.
Is this the first of many?
Has evolution concluded that
the single-brained human
just won't cut it
in the centuries to come?
One head's crying
and the other's sleeping.
A couple of years from now
one could say "mama"
while its twin blurts out "papa."
In the formative years,
maybe they'll disagree with each other
or maybe they won't.
Imagine that,
some guy arguing both sides
at once.
Or fully aligned in their beliefs
and speaking like a double-tracked record.
I envisage one mind
wrapping itself around
the common perplexities of life
while the other is free
to fantasize, to imagine.
I can envisage
one head coming up
with the cure for the cancer
that the other contracted
from spending too much time in the sun.
Or head A composing songs
for head B to sing.
Or one pair of lips
kissing the bride
while the other's chops
are wrapped around
the maid of honor's mouth.
I could go on and on.
A baby's born with two heads.
It's only an hour old
and I already have
a hundred ways of looking at it.
About John Grey: John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review.
