Sitting on the edge of the bed
looking murder through dark curtains
into the yawn-gaped day
that refuses to burn away
with fire-ray vision
the optometrist informs is real
This is no mere super villain
that limps from bed
through the kitchen to desk
now carrying
the instrument of salvation
It's black handle and toothy blade
ready to dispatch
the globe from Florida
in four strokes to the plate
Five neat pieces
reveal it's delicately strung beads
filled with acidic tears
that burst as jaws begin
their evil ripping
all the way to the rind
This orange begins
to raise the brain through the smoke
of dream-filled cataclysms
The earth is finally safe
Barry G. Wick
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