SOUL WINNER, CHRISTIAN BUSINESSMAN, April 20th, 11 A.M.
You can have my soul
spotty squidflesh somewhere inside me,
you can have my mind
with all the neat numbers in it,
you can have my body
fast legs sludging arteries,
you can have my heart
that’s so good in bed,
you can have any part.
You can have my old trousers
if they haven’t emptied the dumpster yet.
But what would you do
with my soul if you had it?
Cut out the guts and the pen,
stomp on it, tenderize it, fricassee:
you’d throw my body against the Saracen,
napalm salvation on a million gooks.
Toss out my body, bury my heart.
You’d have me reborn
on the clutching rotary, the roped wheel:
I won’t be born again.