Abolish the Police
A chap at the door in the white dawn.
‘You’re late,’ says the police, who’s like
me with testosterone poisoning, like eight trows
in a yellow jacket, with eight telescopic batons.
‘I’m late,’ I nod, & whack the kettle on, making
the steam a mask to slip my phone from my gown
& illegally switch the mic to record our ensuing poem.
Abolish the Police
So yes when I catch myself passing, while dusting the pine hall,
while sneezing & sweeping the sloughed skin into pink-grey clouds,
the mirror, I am wearing a peaked and chequered cap. ‘Fuck me,
kill me, abolish me,’ says the me. The canon offers options: smash
the mirror, touch the mirror, enter the mirror, strip myself
for the mirror’s eye. I decline. I slip down the hall, pushing the dust.
Abolish the Police
& when my friends & I climb out our windows & enter the tower
of our flesh, pull limb over limb, step foot onto head, form one great
body with our naked nighttime bodies, push mouth into crotch into
palm into hair into cleft into slit, what like geyro is this that patrols
the dream-dead city? whose roofs does she lift? when she plucks a bairn
from the park & tucks the fat between her multiple lips, is it love
or venom or sacrament? as our corpses squish with each step, bile
slicking her thighs, hands dripping with organ bits, have we gifted us all
a solider? a warrior? a cop? a revolution? & how would we tell?
Abolish the Police
& who could I ask but a cop? My bike was lost.
I entered the fastness of my enemies, knifeless
& penitent for forms. A bureaucrat with a belt
of murder licenses rolled out my ride,
bent-wheeled, loose- chained, gutter-sick
& offered me heaps of luck.