2 Poems

by Joseph Veronneau

Blind Consent

That night Janet's dog caught that cat,
tore it up badly.
Its throat was slit;
claws flinching in and out,
unable to cry out.
The dog took the cat between its jaws,
drug it down the road half-running.

The cat hung, looking straight ahead,
destiny unknown to a certain extent.
The gravel passed by
and the streaks of the road
were faint bolts of lightening,
ripples in the sky
flew by in peripheral horizon.

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In the Wake Of Illness

In March of that year,
I slept sporadically

under the weight of Mononucleosis.
My dreams bled forth the sayings
of Jean Paul Sartre.
I found nude pictures
that you had sent to me
and was as excited by them
as stale bread is to rotting cold cuts.
I tossed them back into the drawer
with numerous other withered belongings
with minimal ownership, and no remorse.
I cleaned the garage that year
and tended to the yard like a sexton tends
to a lifeless statue of Christ.
Anytime I exerted
I felt the swelling of my stomach,
my head a cozy fireplace
for pain.
And her voice on the other line
was a new seduction to me,
catching tones sideways,
settling into my mind
like dust on furniture.

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Joseph Veronneau has had poems appear or are forthcoming in the following publications: Ken*Again, Word Riot, Chiron Review, Chantarelle's Notebook, Cerebral Catalyst, Locust, Thieves Jargon, Other Side of The Ragged Edge, and many others. He also runs Scintillating Publications, a chapbook publishing press.