ALTAR-COLA QUENCHES HAUNTING

CHRISTOPHER PORCARO

 
 

Sugar-red soda jinn
            sweet-lamp burning in my doorway.
Ruby fly trap fizz bursting spirits —

from a glass-formed fountain.

I bat charging ghosts with wishes

caught in the high-fructose cornelian net.
            Factory web.
Sticky well to my home’s afterlife.

Every carbonated globe         a spirit —

rising to rupture in sibyllic syllables,

a Cherry-Pop hymn to other worlds.

Altar-Cola quenches my haunting.

 

 
 

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