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The Dissident







The Dissident

 
I ripped the spots with fur, from sure to sure
as shit, so now my urban manners shine
like spit. They hanged the alphabet for lying 

in letters on the regent's desk. 'No cure 

for it,' the brochure said about the ease 
of dying. Little did we know, the seas 

were crying; trying to convey the shore  
apart from images of war. The store 
of monumental waste is precious, more 

like the experienced flower's core that drips 
with separation. Duty's tyranny 

is, bit by bit, the bark that scrapes the sky. 

But shifting ignorance, in an eclipse
or not, is just our way, as luminous

our king's infanticidal humor was.



Jake Sheff

 

Jake Sheff is a major and pediatrician in the US Air Force, married with a daughter and three pets. Currently home is the Mojave Desert. Poems of Jake’s are in Marathon Literary Review, Jet Fuel Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing). He considers life an impossible sit-up, but plausible. 

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