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.

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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.