Foie Gras by Paul Ilechko

Tongue squirms flooding afternoon
as a fat duck waddles past its liver
intact sleep is a form of singing
says the doctor as he takes another
temperature it’s colder near the river
and the ice is trapped beneath his nails
text is flowing freely from the poisoned
palate from the eroticism of rank
calumny a pile of steaming organs
imagined from the ranks of muscovites
slapped on paper plates and distributed
between the desperate homeless
this then is the latest theory a philosophy
of starvation replacing joy with
the gavage of the mystified body politic
ducking and weaving with the masses
rubbing up against the bars of their cages
counting down their remaining days.
Paul Ilechko is the author of three chapbooks, most recently “Pain Sections” (Alien Buddha Press). His work has appeared in a variety of journals, including Rogue Agent, San Pedro River Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Book of Matches and The Banyan Review. He lives with his partner in Lambertville, NJ.