I’ll deny the surprise grapefruits if I must.
I’ll overpay for a flat white
taking a selfie with a Sasquatch
and its little red Pig
and its little red Dog.
I yearn for eyeteeth antipasti
to burn my chest with Castelvetrano
and Salsiccia alla Pizzaiola.
I love bold Spanish tortillas eaten
on heated leather seats
driving into a storm of money.
Money.
Money ruins everything.
This poem is over.
“Yonic Doink (A Coronation)”
Excoriate the Morning Glory.
Execute the Dog Tooth Violet.
Deny the Indian Paintbrush.
Consume the Gladiola.
Expel the Venus Slipper.
Obliterate the Bluebonnet.
Crush utterly the Buttercup.
Overpower the Coneflower.
Incinerate the Tulip.
Run down the Rhododendron.
Bury the Begonias.
Pinch the Periwinkle.
Stab the Apple Blossom.
Savage the Jasmine.
Spit on the Petunia.
Detonate the Larkspur.
Crucify the Chrysanthemum.
Laugh in the face of the Daffodil.
Cremate the Aster.
Stifle the Iris.
Fuck the Phlox.
Penetrate the Hyacinth.
Choke out the Crepe Myrtle.
Shatter the Stargazer Lily.
Punish the Daisy.
Vilify the Crocus.
Demolish the Dahlia.
Devastate the Rose.
How much beauty can we kill and never kill it all?
Mathew Clouser is a redeemed misfit chef, journalist, multi-disciplinary artist, and low-barrier shelter/street outreach worker based in Vermont. He is the author of Dereliction Omnibus, How I Became an Idiot (as NUUM), and Mope Man, and a co-founder of the loose collectives Bookhouse Boys and O.O.T.S.E. He makes noise with Late Blooming Savants, occasionally works as editor-at-large for ITERANT Magazine. His work has appeared in Garden & Gun, Bon Appétit, Bravo, Vice Munchies, Food Network, Former People, DUENDE, The Rio Review, The Brandon Reporter, The Addison Independent, and beyond. He is a renowned hater of bananas.
