As Adonis, my offish solos crowded bowls.
When my neck splinters in its liberated river
as strings strike chords on unconscious rock,
as I hunch in gnarly leather, drool, toothless,
with a tongue for tautology, soul for gospel,
with fingers fractured and muscles atrophied,
in spite, in short, in brief, in stocking feet, im-
merse in my dry aquarium, headbang along,
as my pissing a cappella disturbs airwaves,
as clamps dangle from electrocuted nipples,
as lighting and makeup ennoble my sockets,
on display at this glass castle with no toilet.
Joe Bishop’s work has appeared in literary journals across his home country of Canada as well as abroad. In 2016, he received a Newfoundland & Labrador Arts & Letters award for poetry.
