Humidor of human filth
By Zac Dunn
Art by Jack Grupe
Published Issue 099, March 2022
Humidor of human filth
Escape artist with no thumbs hitchhiking
Blackened Batman summarily summoned
The goblets all brimming with crimson glow
The Mollys all grinning and stepping below
Cold calling the crisis line
Pretending to be flush
While all the merry naive men
Race to the bottom in a rush
The voice crackles from across the phone
Please hold while I connect you
Two clicks and two ticks
Many steps to the left
Right across the chest of the albatross
Coriander lavender mustard cumin
Clutching the bone facing the monolith
2001 years later alligator teeth
Unleashed a puppy dog heart and
Coat dipped in guided Broomhilda
Cast the flask to the depths
Left to face the man in the iron mask
One on one
Colossal understatement interned and
Burned, indelibly dealt directly
Underhanded upon a light base of
Purée confit feelings frozen in time
All the people stand up
No one looks left but steps right instead
Then right once more
The man in the moon
Looks on with wide-eyed amazement
A gasp and laugh and another
Step across the path
Holding hands but running apart
The gate closed behind them
The earth shook and the trees danced
Mud crept closer still as feet trampled further toward the barrier
That was not there
The inside of the cigar room was sublime
All shoes shined and crests waxed
At the tips
A broad chested brute
Donning a full Buffalo head upon
His frame approached and extended
Gracious invitations to run wild across
The expanse
Some time would elapse and others joined
All would disrobe
Sizes and shapes of every variety
Glistening and sweaty
A voice calls out from out of the silence
No one wants to see what happens next
A thunder crack of terror shrieks and
No one has been minding the many
Tubs full of deadly serpents
The doors are locked but everyone is home
A child swaddled and barefoot
Rises from the slithering horde
Clutching a pit viper in one hand
And fur-de-lance in the other
King cobra coiled on top of
His crown
Eyes closed as he spoke in tongues
But made time to spit woo
At everyone
The house fell to its knees
The copper voiced liar
Stood up first only to be stuck in the cheek
By a diamondback hissing profusely
Another would break ranks and cast volley of speech only to be drilled with the fangs
Again and again
But then the child stepped forward once more
To the left and the right
Deep into the still of the night
Young ladies cried out not knowing
The child would grow to be a man
Zac Dunn is a psycho-social mechanic, father, musician and dreamer. Check out his music and follow him on Twitter and Instagram.
Check out Zac’s March Birdy piece, GRASSHOPPER, or head to our Explore section to see more of his work. Snag copies of the first few years of Birdy to Jack’s published contributions.