Demented Rain

At the Apocalypse Soon Church
in Chino, Reverend Bob chants
Woe to corruptors of our souls
in a golden robe. My Spock
eyebrows irritate me and I want
to boogie under a blanket
with a girl, not pose as an angel
from a trailer court. Instead,
a lifelong migraine carries
my secret for years. The next
afternoon Reverend Bob admits
to molesting teenaged acolytes
for decades, pronouncing them
angels: he named me Einstein,
his special boy. But the pervert
Reverend Bob, landlord of a sex
funfarm, soon a Big House guest,
now clutches his crotch in fear
of San Quentin sinners: he eats
a rib-eye, rare, before splitting
his face in two with an axe.
A helmet adorns me that day
because of the hail storm forecast,
that day the preacher chants to me
Mea culpa, Einstein, his head
cracking like thunder, the spatter
covering my face like demented rain.

David Spicer


David Spicer has had poems in Gargoyle, Rat’s Ass Review, Reed Magazine, Slim Volume, North Dakota Quarterly, Chiron Review, Easy Street, Prime Number, The American Poetry Review, Ploughshares,  among others, and in the anthologies Silent Voices: Recent American Poems on Nature (Ally Press, 1978), Perfect in Their Art: Poems on Boxing From Homer to Ali (Southern Illinois University Press, 2003), and A Galaxy of Starfish: An Anthology of Modern Surrealism (Salo Press, 2016). He has been nominated for a Best of the Net twice and a Pushcart, and is the author of one full-length collection of poems, Everybody Has a Story (St. Luke’s Press, 1987), and four chapbooks, with a forthcoming chapbook, From the Wings of a Pear Tree, from Flutter Press. He is also the former editor of Raccoon, Outlaw, and Ion Books.

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