Kerri Shying R - # 188 - Give me Fever

Give me Fever.

stitched onto the sand   you were once a fever

of stinging rays     wide  underwater kites

with graceful flapping wings   apparitions beamed from

outer space   it always seemed to me    the end of all the

mysteries      my uncles   cousins  picking    stick thin legs

between the sand bar   and lagoon    Narooma

beach    afraid of electricity   surely coursing through the

long whip tails   devil-barbed   you swished you swished

patrolling    more sure than all the storm troopers  in the

Death Star   now to open up the paper     on a Saturday

find the stingray killing competition     see you there

all dead   in a patterned grid    speaks of no

imagination    barbarous-engined zombies  wound up set loose

human Pac men   stealing grace  and all imagination

nothing left but rot and someone coming by

to turn the sand    across a glut of bodies

Sunday  if not Monday 

eh.