how to play god

i. the nagpur orange

pluck the mottled sun

drooping low from overgrown orchards

and shed his rind,

a waxed riddle of oedipal green

weaved with cadmium hubris.

shed until pulp rays dribble down,

making the blistered burn.

let sour verbiage lick writhing flesh,

and while she hemorrhages in the street,

claim to her father the wounds are clean.

ii. opium song

and so it begins!

fields of flaming poppies,

with pupils shriveled like my brethren’s bodies,

often finds themselves susceptible to nervous failure;

jar the milk tears spilling forth

and cure them dry.

smoke for blackened lung valleys

and nosebleed rivers,

both of which prelude

the cacophony of pale blues rolling back in their heads.

iii. death by drainage

to bear witness to lakeside kingfishers

is a travesty in itself.

laws of nature dictated by the self-serving state

forbid their guttural songs

from melding with the mellow burbles of oars

gliding atop the waters.

but the remedy to such an ailment is undemanding:

one must swallow the lake whole,

taking with them every tender lotus pad and trout.

once the womb is barren,

offering no fruits of labor but gum wrapper miscarriages,

witness the kingfishers’ songs become strains.