ISSUE 1 · FALL 2008



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Copyright © 2009

C. E. Chaffin

Kentucky-Fried Christ

C. E. CHAFFIN



I wear the Elephant Man’s mask

like a Jewskin lampshade.

Do you see the glow of hell through it?

Come, warm yourself, take my gold fillings,

my bones for your Camellias

because living is for men in sunglasses

who filter the not me from the me

while suicide is for sissies in navy suits.

 

If my blood’s been desiccated

and ground to red pepper,

remember me on your pizza.

I am the Jesus of the broken cell phone,

the Savior of ceramic kitsch.

I’ll glue that broken cat

with the clock in its belly

together with my spittle.

Of my healing there shall be no end.