Josephus Breaststrokes in the Dead Sea

by Logan Fry

She wrung her dilettante cloth,
splurged a mediocre

pond. To be a salty fossil
at bottom. Mirth never foisted
the lady from her lot. That was kosmic

propaganda. Gomorric
lacks the proper ring. A fondest
fib, that talent
canít transfer. Note:

keratin claws your nostils
when kindled. Note
her handkerchief, heavy with sulfur.