I SELDOM THINK OF CREATURES THAT DEVOUR IN THE NIGHT by Andrew K. Peterson

I Seldom Think Of Creatures That Devour In The Night

by Andrew K. Peterson

hush · issue 3

I SELDOM THINK OF CREATURES THAT DEVOUR IN THE NIGHT

For Joe Cooper

dreamt about transformer bugs

half-grasshopper half-scorpion

100% transformer bug

the attendant keeps falling into me provocatively 

in a big space station

sorry I don’t know any good

homophonic translation essays 

 

(this is the non-dream part):

 

I find a Jesus palm card at the drive-thru ATM 

you tell me not to use because I’m not a car but do anyway

on the card Jesus spoons a passed-out dude

purple tee & dirty jeans

Jesus looks like a soft lover who might playfully bite your neck

if you say his stigmatas looks like miniature assholes

 

I don’t think Jesus’ stigmatas look like miniature assholes

Do you think Jesus’ stigmatas look like miniature assholes? 

 

I tuck Jesus and his friend in your peppermint tin

now every time you reach for fresh breath you can consider

whether Jesus’ stigmatas look like miniature assholes

 

I changed my mind a little Jesus’ stigmatas look more like

miniature assholes than they did before

 

Do you know the joy of being forgiven?

Andrew K. Peterson

Andrew K. Peterson is an editor and author of five poetry books, most recently A Blue Nocturne Notebook (Spuyten Duyvil Press, 2021). A chapbook The Big Game Is Every Night was mailed to the White House in 2017 alongside other publications from Moria Books’ Locofo Chaps as collective protest. Another previous chap bonjour meriwether and the rabid maps (Fact-Simile, 2011) was included in an exhibition of poets’ maps at the University of Arizona’s Poetry Center. He is a co-founding editor of the online lit journal summer stock, and helped co-organize at his hometown Boston Poetry Marathon in 2017.