Hoi Polloi
Who bolt like thieves dispersed by florescence,
who fold under the weight of a leaf,
who retract their hands from germinations
who in headlights freeze,
who cost you on their way out,
some fly toward light, some creatures flee,
who are wounded for their transgressions
whatever atonement there may be,
who exorcise the demons,
who excommunicate the human beings,
who intercede with angels,
all of which are the same thing:
a conscience as a headdress.
Are our subcutaneous wings
unsheathed only by love
or when needed for surviving?
And which is human nature?
What is that of which I speak?
I wave my arms like sirens.
I change that which I choose to be.
I make myself a martyr.
My rapturous death I’m awaiting.
My feverish desire
for my windy scattering.
Swing low, sweet chariot.
Lower
lower
lower
By Craig Kite
Craig Kite is a poet, publisher and CEO of Mad Gleam Press LLC. He is the current poetry slam champion of Staten Island, NY which he represented at the National Poetry Slam 2018. He was nominated for Pushcart Prize by Great Weather For MEDIA in 2016 and has been published by various presses. He has a background in journalism/human rights reporting and has written from locations such as Iraq, Turkey, Chiapas, Guatemala, New Orleans and Algonquin territory Ontario.
Work for Monthly Verse is selected through our editorial process. New poems are selected from authors that submitted work for the last issue. Read more authors by subscribing to Fjords.