The Id of My Manhood
Slam my ruffian feet in the backyard creek
where all the rainbow fish call me “God”
and my toenails are fishhooks that they hurl their suicide to.
I laugh at the stupid violence.
My feet wet now I mosh through the grass
and guillotine grubs under my wax heels
baring teeth like a boy stunted mind of a ten-year-old
while hungry for Momma’s gravy to slop up. Mmmm!
Zealot hatred of Gaia and all of her toils.
Only decades extended from my spermy origins,
having not learned a thing, and causing harm
for it is the only thing I know how to do with success.
Meantime my Pop threatens to lick his new wife
like a stamp and send her to Madagascar!
Wanting to be just like him,
I address an envelope to hell bearing my own name.
I wrote this piece after receiving an astute note from my professor, Jan Schmidt. The note helped me reimagine the way I write and read poetry. It was the first thing that I wrote after receiving the note, minutes later.
Matt Moment (he/they) is a writer, photographer, and performer from New York. He is a recent graduate of SUNY New Paltz, where he was awarded the Vincent Tomaselli Award for Creative Writing in poetry and playwriting. His work has been featured in Hole in the Head Review, BreakBread Magazine, Mistake House, Escutcheon Review, Stonesthrow Review, and more. Presently, he is traveling during his gap year before graduate school.