Poetry Issue 10

   Issue # 10: July-December 2008

Dan Chiasson

Roman Song

      Shit is the taste you want in your mouth,
      said love, said love, be a dog,
      I lost my heart in the gutter, in the filth,
      carry it back to me in your teeth.

      Love said be a dog, find the butcher
      and the gutter, the runoff,
      the blood stream flooding the sewer:
      the water that sickens quenches desire.

      Nothing breathing escapes your appetite.
      Nothing to drink is an alien thirst.
      Put everything living down your throat.
      Your belly is vast as the world tonight.

      Ignore your master’s leash. Let food
      be your master. Let everything
      be food. Let everything taste good.
      Let everything you eat be your good food.

      (Originally appeared in Paris Review and used by permission of the author.)