Poem by Alex Creece


 

rust

world of the watercooler
iridescent petri dish
high-beam neons and jet fuel
in cyan, yellow, magenta
cannot melt paper reams

a paperclip falls into my glass
for a day, or a month
and I let it
it clots into blood, somehow
from corporate and clinical to coagulate
and I like it

this office smells like hair gel
and heterosexual fucking
metallic and mechanical
wait a day, or a month
let their gums scab
let their teeth rust
they will like it

 

Photography © Glenn Bowie

Photography © Glenn Bowie

 

Alex Creece is the cheesiest boss battle.

Glenn Bowie is a published poet, lyricist and photographer from the Boston area. He also owns and operates an elevator company that supplies custom-built elevators for clients from New England to Hollywood. Author of two poetry and photograph collections (Under the Weight of Whispers and Into the Thorns and Honey) on Big Table Publishing, he donates all profits from his books to various charities for the homeless and local animal shelters. Glenn is also the official photographer for the Newton Writing and Publishing Center.

 

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