A Foul Flotsam

by on July 8, 2023 :: 0 comments

So on they came
a floating vagrancy of rejects,
already sent packing by others who’d
seen their kind before,
not fooled for a minute by their
shiny shoe buckles and boxy dunce caps,
they were spit back into that spumy sea
like poison sucked from a snakebite.

Bound for Plymouth they hit that
stony brim like an outbreak,
offering up their cold comfort
of eternal salvation like a Trojan Horse.

As with the passing down of a fatal gene
they afflict us still, these congenital hearts
of black ice and spite.

editors note:

What if they had said, “No thanks!” at that first Thanksgiving? – mh clay

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