Poetry

Maeve McKenna

O, Ugly, returned
from your temporary leave,
come closer. Come
with your catastrophic

 weapons — vandal
of love — loot
this heart, tear
with shrapnel hands

 eyelashes
from their skin graves,
command teardrops
in massacres of crying.

 O, Ugly, plunge
your orders inside
this bombed mouth.
Make insults

 lethal affection.
Ugly, you are a soldier,
battle to reclaim
self loathing.

 Release civilians
of their guilt;
these troops of
praise, hollow praise.

 Let hate behold the grimace
of plush lipstick,
of pouting kiss-lips,
thorn bouquets

 puncturing dimples, shrouds
of smiling, terrible
lies. O, Ugly, broken fool,

 unleash your assaults,
loaded, pointing, firing.
Ugly, where is my war?
I am armed.

License

Icon for the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License

San Antonio Review (Volume IV, Fall 2020) Copyright © 2020 by Maeve McKenna is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

Digital Object Identifier (DOI)

https://doi.org/10.21428/9b43cd98.592f69e1

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