Beneath the Swamp

by Cody Adams

The vast swamp unfolds into a millennium of witching

hours all tangled up like ghouls wrestling each

other’s phantasmic bones out of joint. You’ll have

to trudge through it in your underwear, the polka

dot pair that sags around your creased gut ever since its

elastic band was defeated by that baby that didn’t make it.

You sink deeper into noxious sludge with every step,

muddy shame squishing between your swollen toes.

You bruise your heel on an errant stone, a clod

of cosmic dust that Chicxulub coughed up way

back when this pukish swamp was a paradise.

Muscle through thickets of barbaric briers,

each thorn as sharp as their diabolical ancestors

that belonged to Barabbas, but were buried

into Bethel’s brow. The hurricanic web

of brier teeth scribble a thousand cuts across

your sunburnt stomach; the scratches against

the purple stretch marks happen to spell out, 

              Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani?

A meteorite shower of moths dart in riots above your head.

Shadowy eyes painted on their wings blink maniacally, refracting

moonlight arrows as they stare straight through your

caligraphied skin, into the barren marsh of your pelvic marrow.

Ahead, the water’s stagnant surface breaks. You freeze–

A dozen volcanic eyes glow from Jurassic snouts; the gators swirl in

synchronized figure 8’s, pinning you to the intersection of the infinity

shape. But the gator eyes go wide, then slink away when Leviathan arrives;

her spiked-spine slices through the water, a scaly skyline sinking into

unseen filth. Her ripples lasso your knees together in hell-bent halos.

But beneath the swamp’s

mud and mire is Solid Rock,

invisible, yet immovable.

---

Cody Adams teaches high school literature in Toronto, ON. His recent writing has appeared in Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, Defenestration, Ekstasis Magazine, Cacti Fur, among others. He also serves as a Board Member for Forefront Festival.