CL Bledsoe-Revelation

I lost my eyes on the way to work, replaced
them with a couple of brown recluses
that were hiding in my sleeves. They crawled
in while I spent a decade asleep. Dreams
are the hardest thing to remember. The reason
you wanted to sleep is the hardest thing
to forget. The spiders didn’t like the light,
so I had to squint. All I could see were flies.
But at least I didn’t have to worry about maggots.

There’s a man with a gun at the gate
who’s supposed to make sure only
the right people get in, but every day he lets
my boss through. I’m not trying to tell anyone
the best way to die; we’ll all get there.
Do you want to know the story? There was a woman
in the street, standing, her arms raised to the sky
like that meant something outside of a movie.
I looked at her and she looked at me and that’s
where they went.

At lunchtime, there were protestors with signs
talking about the treatment of animals. I didn’t
know if they counted bugs, so I went out the back.
The thing about signs is you can write anything
on them. The same is true of the heart.
What I mean to say is that it’s not the maggots,
it’s the necrotic venom, the inability to focus,
never knowing that woman’s name as the light
changed and someone behind me began to honk.
I thought it was trumpets announcing Revelation,
but it was just some asshole trying to get to death faster.