Rapture Us
The Rapture finally came
and all the assholes went away.
What were they expecting?
A paradise consisting of lots of space,
plenty of guns
and no “swarthy types” to be found.
Sort of like a rent-free Colorado.
What they actually got?
I couldn’t say for sure.
But the last time I saw Buddha
he gave me a huge and knowing grin,
and a big thumbs-up with one hand
while the other raised a shinbone
to his lips
to nip off the last bits of delicious meat.
I’ve never seen him so fat, so happy.
Wish List
She dips her left fingers
into the font of holy water
because her right arm
is in a cast.
She folds herself
awkwardly
around the bruises and tears
to kneel.
She prays that
1: God, in His infinite mercy
will take this son-of-a-bitch soon, and
2: He’ll hold off
on that Eternal Resurrection for a while.
She’s had about all she can take.
Christopher Jones founded Lost Prophet Press in 1992, publishing and editing the literary journals Thin Coyote and Knuckle Merchant: The Journal of Naked Literary Aggression for many years. His work has appeared in many places, including The American Literary Review, The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror anthology (St. Martin’s Press), Cajun Mutt Press, The Wild Word, Hearth & Coffin and what he is informed was a very nice flowerpot on the Detroit Lakes Poetry Walk. His most recent book is Swamp Yankee, from the sadly now-defunct Destructible Heart Press. He lives in West Saint Paul, Minnesota with his family.
