The Mob
by Harris Coverley
one
mouth
spread
across two
thousand holes
with
anything up to
sixty-four
thousand
teeth
between
them
all
screaming
all
shouting
all
grinding
torches
alight
the
stomping of four
thousand feet
the
rustle of coats
the
frequent
spitting
the
occasional
chortling
four
thousand hands
whipping
on you
scoring
you
tearing
you
blistering
exhausted
skin
shattering
flesh
but
upon your own
lips
a
bitten tongue
licking the blood away
you
manage to offer
them
from
the heap of you
on the ground
a
response:
“never
. . . I say .
. . never . . .”
Along with previously
in Yellow Mama, Harris Coverley has verse published or
forthcoming in Polu Texni, California Quarterly, Star*Line, Corvus
Review, Tales from the Moonlit Path, Danse Macabre, Once
Upon a Crocodile, The Rye Whiskey Review, 5-7-5 Haiku
Journal, and many others. He lives in Manchester, England.
Bernice
Holtzman’s paintings and collages have
appeared in shows at various venues in Manhattan, including the Back Fence in Greenwich
Village, the Producer’s Club, the Black Door Gallery on W. 26th St., and
one other place she can’t remember, but it was in a basement, and she was well received.
