Moonshine

Moonshine     (by Christine Biles)

 

It takes moonshine to turn

a mustache into mountains.

No matter the shrill songs

of the crazy, cockeyed hobo

or the music you hear playing

in your head all day long, filling

your senses with the belabored

beats of the bourgeois, no

matter that grinding humdrum

ho-hum, tiresome and tedious

routine. Moonshine can turn

a mustache into mountains.

 

No matter the children you see

on the streets doing whatever

they can to survive, boys

learning to fight, learning

the necessity of crack, of snowy

blow before the blows that leave

only a bloody void, girls selling

their fish-netted, sequined-

selves beneath the lamp posts

No matter that underground

world you see through the eyes

of those who should be focusing

on basic math and reading rather

than the techniques of survival.

Moonshine can always turn

a mustache into mountains.

 

No matter the acrid taste

that tumefies your tongue

when a man stands before

a woman, forces her down

on bruised knees to suck

the semen from his rigid cock

No matter that jaundiced tang

filling your mouth, while hers

is occupied by the abominable.

It takes moonshine to turn

a mustache into mountains.

 

No matter the grounded glass

that grinds through the capable

calluses of your hands after

a punch to the stomach amplifies

the power of gravity because

apparently this mugger is God

No matter the beads of blood

you feel one by one drip down

past your wrists as you hold

helpless hands to the sky to show

your submission, your surrender,

your whole-hearted reverence.

Moonshine can always turn

a mustache into mountains.

 

No matter what you may wear

atop your pursed upper lip:

an established brown bristle

faithfully trimmed for years,

a frowning scar that only turns

heinous when you smile,

or a smear of dirt and blood

passed from frayed fingers to face

when religion made you weep.

It takes moonshine to turn

a mustache into mountains,

to smell only sweet, pure air

in whatever it is that lies in wait

below.

 

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