by Jack Hodil
Ne te quaesiveris extra
So many beasts in one body,
the father, son, and their holy nightmares,
with closed fists and lowered stances,
as his mind bounds, blood-soaked
and starved for another war
against manipulated mannequins and
the stained, synthetic models
of our being. False contacts, mixed
meanings, and the sky’s always subjective
truths, maintain the mortal myths while
condemning this ground’s sequestered self—
so that later, when she says she loves him,
he will answer don’t.
Still Terrestrial
And the last words
ever spoken on this
earth will be those of
its two oldest tenants, still
sitting in a homemade
cockpit, with an infinity to
trace, across an eternal time,
already arguing over
which of the worlds
they should leave
for first.
Jack Hodil is an English/Creative Writing major at the University of Richmond. Recently, his work has appeared in Word Riot, Neon Literary Magazine, Pure Francis, the Camroc Press Review, scissors and spackle, and many other lovely places. His fingers are perpetually crossed, so he (usually) writes with his toes.
A-Minor 