Rape and the Soft Underbelly by Grant Tarbard

It’s the fear that kills,
The violin squeal
At the apex nape
In cloven shape shifts
Of the madonna

And the virgin birth.
The girl was young, the
Swines rooted out like
A daisy. Who was
It on the far side

Of dawn who chased word
Shadows on the brine
Beneath big blue tears
As you fight to breathe.
Sad that their meal is

Dying, waiting for
The punch in the flab,
Soft underbelly
Of Italian bread
And Swastika light.

Grey Tones by Grant Tarbard

(I)

Distance is in my
Eye, the viewing not
Restricted to make
Believe borders drawn
Out in the design.

(II)

Wagnerian grand
Sweeps. Grey tones, garnet
Relished in flesh, in
The blood pools of a
Sorrowful moonscape.

Grant Tarbard is the editor of The Screech Owl and co-founder of Resurgant Press. His first collection Yellow Wolf is out now from WK Press.

Je Suis Charlie by Grant Tabard

What do you want of us, we give you blood
Over satire, our crimson heartbeats are
Bawling bassoons, our lungs pant like faulty
Bellows and our ink hands are stained with a
Weeping prophet in a globe of matches,
Tinder sticks that light with everybody
Talking at once and then stillness… Are our
Names being called in the Parisian streets?
Georges, Stephane, Bernard, Jean. Pages ripped,
All the sea sick books burnt for their own good,
Should auld acquaintance be forgot je suis
Charlie. The bells of Notre Dame will sound,
Flags will fly like a firefly because of
A pen’s power to disrupt the mouse hole.

Grant Tarbard is the editor of The Screech Owl and co-founder of Resurgant Press. His first collection Yellow Wolf is out now from WK Press.