WHERE THE SHARKS SLEEP By Zac Dunn The 2x4 face he wore was firm and correct His crippled grip slipped on the Cold metal surfaces Cast of ore Dug from the Blood red dirt Anvil to the hand on purpose As a gaggle of gnomes feed him appetizers and refreshments Grimace sucker punched the Grinch Knocking in his stupid face Like a rotten pumpkin SLOWLY FILLING THE GOPHER HOLE IN YOUR SOUL He exclaimed Salacious relations Tinder moments So sloppy yet ambitious a Peppermint swizzle stick of longevity morosely moaning and Meticulously manhandling the mushy membrane So plump and round yet profoundly Red as a slappy anniversary Mercifully serving a meanerval Crown made entirely of Hot wing bones Haphazardly thrown by filthy paws No. 115 Double six and six three Double eight and snake eyes The Bucktooth bandito rolling low In the hearse turned the corner and slowly let out three words FUDD PUKE FEET Then ate another peyote button and Leaned further back in his seat Luckily the passengers would all Slumber forever and ever As the night crawled forward Into the Everglades of the misty morning haze He removed the sleeping beauties at the end of the pier and slid their cadavers into cool blue expanse eyeing the fins breaking the liquid surface’s plane A thrashing conflagration erupted as they Consumed the flesh he’d gifted to them As the sun slowly rose Casting an eternal shadow from the weathered wooden tips of the dock The mighty white sharks all Turned and ran silent then deep To the quiet depth Happy to be full today And free to dream tomorrow With their eyes wide open still Slinking ever lower To their safe quiet space in the ocean deep Swimming closer and closer to the place Where the sharks sleep ART BY BIZ56
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