pink eye revolution
by t. zoEy benally

deadly pink eye, i knew it was bad when she put on gloves
normally i watch to see if the docs even pause at the sink and soap
ignored, yellow sign placed at doc eye-level, wash your hands

yesterday it started, but i trace it's origins back to saturday
putting too much of me into the dead dog poem in Telluride
small itch progressed to burning redness, and flood of puss

it would be easy to start a pink eye outbreak, be the point source
a fondled dollar, imbued with gooby eye bacteria, spent here, there
hands contaminated with simpler organisms, bent on survival

pink eye bacteria, smeared on all the P.O. Boxes, counters
shaken onto hands, smeared onto doorknobs, handles, tools
don't touch your eyes! wash your hands! pink eye was here...

today a glob of medication is smeared into pink eye, and fellow eye
the alien beings slowly release their tentacles from my sclera, rhymes with
Sara, Tara, bo-Bear-a, banana-fana, fo-Farrah fee-fi-Mo-Mara, sclera

one word: iron
by t. zoEy benally

red sand stains on your white tube socks
gallons of chlorox bleach will never fade
iron flakes oxidized, rusting in the knit of your heels.

one word: courage
by t. zoEy benally

courage the colour of cougars
tawny yellow that blends with sand
beneath trees, behind bushes,
around fibrous legs of grass
that lick the air before it reaches the sky

JLow's Fur Farm
by t. zoEy benally

she was tired of all the criticism, the picture of her bling-bling next to a fox
electric probe in it's mouth and anus, soon to be denuded, fur peeled off
she tore a corner off the flexible plastic wrap of her Snicker, and pulled it down
rolled down like a sock, white surface exposed, square brown log revealed
she sunk her even white teeth through chocolate, nouget & peanuts
daintily wiped a chocolate smear from her lower lip with a dry, linty tissue

it was the last thing she had to do, before sliding between cream satin sheets
Jennifer glanced the time, 8:30, she better go now before they started rattling their bowls
she grabbed the forest green bucket on the floor, opened the back door
the faucet was dripping again, where did she put those rubber washers?
she turned the knob till water hissed and swirled, quickly filling the bucket
she grabbed the handle taking care not to catch her nail, she was out of nail glue

she held onto the abrupt handle end and dragged slowly towards the door
she discovered that a hoe worked best for cleaning, she cut the handle
so it was easier to maneuver and scrape scat from the corners, out the cage door
she had learned not to worry too much about the yellow urine crust, squares closed
they all peed into a common corner, at first she though the urine would rain
down through the cage stack and stain the fur of the lower rung minks

they were getting really big, for a second she thought back to when they were little
small footfalls vibrating the metal cells, they had gotten sleek, mercury movements
they paced back and forth, heads bobbing in recognition, they smelled food
she opened their cage doors, one by one, scooping a cupful of food into metal bowls
the sun was just coming over the concrete wall, soon her nocturnal army of mink would be asleep
she watched them chow the fish, fruit, and grain mixture, she had to be on the set soon

the blue tarp crunched and slid a little as she walked across, she put the knives down
next to the 5-gallon bucket, she looked over her set-up, plastic covered tables
one for the carcasses, one for the pelts, bucket to catch blood, sharpened knives, gloves
she had hired two guys to help process the meat and skins, but she wanted to do the killing
she wanted to peel their skins down, imagine pieces of her jacket, mentally sew it together
she pulled an animal out of the first cage, carried it to the bucket, and got ready to slit it's throat