Sam Silva




At the Charity Lunch



After Christmas, a baked soliloquy

...over charred words leftover

from the slow celebration

of orphaned gods, spewed from the virgin's

frigid orifice


...I and my lyrical chant

are lukewarm to cold

vegetables and bird meat heaped

and surrounded in the doughy plate

to be redone

and sent out to you


oh mass


by death!





Sam Silva © 2019