Zachary just wanted to be good but there was a bat inside him.
It slept most of the time,
an evil sleep.
I watched him make an orchid suffer once.
Our clothesline was eroding back then.
My mother had to reattach it every five minutes
for seven years.
One day my sister hung a banner from it that said
This Is a Metaphor.
Zachary didn’t look any kind of way doing that—
making that orchid suffer—
he looked peaceful in the empty way.
I was suckling
on a limeade twinpop.
Orchids suffer much more silently than do people.
They suffer in the eroding way, like a clothesline.
I broke the two popsicle sticks
off their frozenness
and read them. One said
There is an evil in you.
The other said
This is a metaphor.
I noted that there was perhaps an evil in me.
I gave one of the two popsicles to the evil me.
The evil popsicle didn’t taste any kind of way.
It tasted like lime—
empty in the peaceful way.
Andrew Rogers is a writer, propagandist, and redhead from Portland, Oregon. He has previously been featured on Open Arts Forum and in Third Point Press, and can be found in an upcoming volume of Lit-Tapes. In his free time he enjoys his free time, enjoyment, etc. His twitter handle is @arogpdx and his insta is @gingerarog.