By D. R. Gayton


In the chain-gang hierarchy

Who is afraid of you?

Tugging along

From the extant monkey bone,

Fetters go on sale

Get them from paper to

Copper to silver to gold;

Mine are plastic hair

Like Barbie’s, in

Alligator leather


Tight fitted clothes,

Catholic galore

Strutted well, with

The condescending gaze

Pockets and looks

Stitched tightly into the

Throb of the


In the garden

Picking up a body

That will


Insatiable from pole to pole

Through flaxen lights

Crossing bridges,


Broadway, windows, and shows

Reek of alchemy, newts and toads

Since you are bend to prove

Glitter is as good as gold.


From Juvenilia (2016)