by Ryan Di Francesco
The Pretend Angels from the Renaissance Paintings
Empty sockets spit pits at the gate. Cherubs drawn on tobacco pouches
fall.
A flock of skulls
eat cherry pie
and sip black coffee.
Lacuna
A falling
ocean
kissed
Rimbaud’s
blue lips.
In Paris
earth figures
taught ants
with badly mangled
antennas.
They have seen the stars.
The Peeled Orange Sun
I woke one day
to see dead gulls
& a flung brick
in the middle
of the moon.
I went outside
& patched it
together.
It began again.
HOWL AND GASH
It blooms.
Then eats.
It’s in the street
of the wordless.
I see it behind
windowpanes.
In the mouth:
an egg
shatters
against clay.
It nests
between her legs.
Ryan Di Francesco (he/him) is a neurodivergent Canadian writer, teacher, and Editor-in-Chief of Shadow & Sax Press. His writing has appeared in The Toronto Star, ExPat Press, Pinhole Poetry, Acta Victoriana, Pacific Review, and elsewhere. He is the author of four poetry chapbooks, including Mirage of Burning Things (Parlyaree Press) and A Dead Idea Between Four Lines (Hit a Snare Press). His collections Along Tongues Full of Time (Ethel Press) and Let the Dogs Have It (Parlyaree Press) are forthcoming.