Notes About The Poem
8/4/2026 for Deviants and Divine Poetry Contest sponsored by Silent One
Divine Deviation
I'm twisted, starved, and revoltingly stunted,
blacksheeped, scape-goated, and litter-runted.
That's the brimstone pit and nightmare waste
from which emerged my delectable taste.
I have no interest in straightened teeth.
Don't show me a stone. I want what's underneath,
flat and squirming with plenty of legs,
miniscule monsters, hatched from eggs.
Your giggling voice that says, "You're weird"
is attached to brains once commandeered
by representatives of a safe community
unsettled by my unique pathology,
who told you wrongly, you'd never be found
writhing deliriously on forsaken ground,
where you and me would intertwine,
not far from the highway sign -
isn't it divine?
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