I need a diesel tractor
with a hand crank flywheel.
Enough to be prepared
for the eventual dislocation
of the grid — a femur popped
from the hip. They’re out there.
Maybe one in Volga. I need three
pallets of MRE’s, the tamale kind
and forty bolts of calico.
I need a wire harness for my neck
and all things blown akimbo — ten
siphons of kerosene and a chimney
pipe. I need a meerschaum,
some loose weed and a Bic.
The Ball jars in the basement
are chipped and will not do.
I need a canteen of vanishing
cream and a hole. I need a coverlet
and several moldy duvets.
I need a pillow stuffed with lime.
I need limes and shelves lined
with pickled phylanges, those
and a few hard niblets of corn.
Image: Lydia Torrey on Unsplash