Dexter
You’re streaming that show
everyone was talking about
ten, twelve years ago, the one
with the detached unemotional
guy working as a forensic,
Los Angeles PD, blood
splatter expert who spends
his free time hunting down
rapists, murderers. You find it
easy to root for Dexter as he
straps tonight’s serial killer
to the table. It feels real
good when the knife plunges
into his chest, blood spills
and black Hefty bags filled
with body parts are thrown
overboard, fall to the ocean’s
bottom in slow motion.
You just started the second
season, watching two, three
hours a night. You’ll be sad
when the credits roll down
after the finale. But maybe
you’ll draw up a petition,
get millions of signatures
reach out to the network,
propose an emergency
comeback, suggest a fresh
plotline about a newly
elected felon president
sending armed forces
to American cities
who needs to disappear
immediately.
Tony Gloeggler is a life-long resident of NYC who managed group homes for the mentally challenged for over 40 years. Poems have appeared in Rattle, New Ohio Review, Chiron Review, Vox Populi, One Art. His most recent collection, What Kind Of Man with NYQ Books, was a finalist for the 2021 Paterson Poetry Prize and Here on Earth is forthcoming on NYQ Books.
