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The road bent me over put
Gravel in the folded over cuffs of my
Jeans so it’s a good thing that I don’t walk
The road it’s a good thing I just drive

In the back I’ve got everything I
Need I’ve got speakers and amps and my electric girl which I
Dove through glass to pull from the hands of a corpse
Who didn’t know the notes anyhow

Until the gasoline burns low until the fucking sun explodes
Chromium pylon radio tower singing dead frequencies
My angel with one red eye
Let me come in under your skirt let me crawl along your spine
No don’t pay no mind cause I’ve got these cables you see
Slithering along your metal bones making my
Cage dancer legs spin for the sharks in the red-pink-red-pink light

At the first note they come shambling
At the second they open their jaws
At the third their hands start scratching
And by the fourth they’re dancing along

Come one come all to the only show around
The only fresh meat on this side of town
Larynx like a lead bobber goes up and down
And I sing and I start to drown

It’s the biggest crowd I’ll ever draw no it’s the biggest crowd dead or alive
For one night we’re all dancing and singing my body screaming blood
And their bodies too I see them move I know there’s something there
I can’t stop playing cause once I do
Oh God. This whole world is gonna go too



[Editor’s Note: Publication of this poem was made possible by a gift from AJ Wentz during our annual Kickstarter.]

CR Colby is a speculative fiction writer from the Midwest.
Current Issue
15 Jul 2024

I inherited the molting, which my mother will deny; she’ll insist it’s a thing only women do, each heartbreak withering from the body like a petal.
a sand trail ever fungible, called to reconcile the syrupy baubles—resplendent pineapple geodes
Who chose who spoke? Who silenced the sparrow?
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