The Asshole of America

I ate the asshole
of America
until my tongue was raw
and dryer than a riverbed
in the stomach of summer.

I was soaked in the blood
of orphaned infants,
my skin slick
with crimson
and steaming innards.

I ate the asshole
of America
under a black sun
while armies ripped me
limb from twitching limb.

My pale legs were mailed
to my mother in Cleveland,
my thin arms
to my son in New York,
my cock to my wife, Natalya.

I ordered Natalya
from an albino in Moscow
nine years ago
for $449.99 in American dollars
and one hell of a backrub.

Natalya and I
used to fuck bleak nights away
like possessed barracuda
ramming each other
until the water bubbled red.

But now I am here,
limbless and sexless,
eating the asshole
of America
in the war-bent blackness.

by Barnabas DuCoudray