SurVision Magazine

Running on the Moving Sidewalk


This empire did not come with instructions;
Now we're drunk on Christmas morning,
Full of cookies, milk and year-end close-outs.
Can I borrow your screwdriver?

How did I know the shit-wagon
Had some assembly required,
Some subscription expired,
And a prescription acquired

For a few tokens of bones
And Christian reliquary?
...no, a Phillips head...
Ok, give me that ball-peen...

Still it just takes some lies to move us along, eh?
Camels in the needle's eye, fat men in chimneys,
The ground moving under our feet
Churning slowly, mechanically.






Matt Banash is a poet and a short-story writer living in North Carolina. His works have previously appeared in Poetry Quarterly and Penumbra Magazine.