Corruption
autumn brought prospects of redemption
lighting wicks of foliage
obscuring futile blooms
leaves solicited wind for help
drafts turned adamant
the job was no longer theirs.
naive kids played in the piles
each named after an inanimate object
chosen by their parents
to represent their likeness
imagination visited occasionally
to relieve oppression of its duties
televisions continued to lecture
as books wept from the dusty shelves
clothes, tagged in identity
cloaked individuality
phones and pagers went off in elected intervals
to remind the children who they had to become.
Swindler
Yesterday I abducted another identity.
Neglected, clinging to a shopping cart
in the middle of the produce aisle;
watching me from between the metal confines.
Flanked by persimmons and yams
it wept.
Diet Coke and lemons started conjugating-
beef jerky was mounting a naive tube of Crest,
a loaf of rye was bedding jam
and chips were attempting to seduce
the weekly circular.
Amidst the mayhem lied the self
pleading for restoration.
That’s when I seized it.
There’s no repentance on my part
as the state spawns such felonies.
It’s out of harm's way now
stowed with my other
contraband.
Serena Spinello is 26 years old, born and raised in New York. She currently resides on Long Island where she is completing an MA in English. Her recent poems have been published in Clockwise Cat, The Houston Literary Review, Conceit Magazine, 63 Channels, Sien en Werden, The Centrifugal Eye, Cause and Effect, Mississippi Crow, Lachryma: Modern Songs of Lament, Zygote in my Coffee, Hecale, Scorched Earth Publishing, The Flask Review and The Verse Marauder. Serena can be contacted via email
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