An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
Odor of Sanctity
There is an obscene elephant
rotting in the living room corner
and we keep bumping into it.
Seems it was a wedding present
that we were afraid to open.
Now it's too late to return it.
We find shells under our pillows
and footprints in our butter.
Our toilet smells of peanuts.
Blind men circle our house.
When epileptic pygmies
are seen arriving after midnight,
we bring in a shaman for aid.
He puts lipstick on clam shells
until coconuts burp from the ceiling
and parrots fart from the walls.
Nothing works. The decay continues.
After the shaman leaves, we amble,
from room to room, turning off lights.
When the night light flickers out,
we hear a snicker.
Philip Venzke is from Wisconsin. His most recent poems appear in Verse Wisconsin, Echoes, The Wisconsin Poets Calendar, Sheepshead Review, Illumen, Thunderclap! Magazine, and Right Hand Pointing.