Fanta grape
I was tasting the Molotov vapor
wick-soaked gasoline
furthering its career
hoisted to meet the numb cold permanently
jingling coins and oily paper money
lasting outlasting debris
smacking my tongue to its tusks
dipped in a Fanta grape
thumbed at the top shaking
Karen Garthe
The Banjo Clock
University of California Press
Copyright © 2012 by The Regents of the University of California
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission