Let's workshop this poem about a baby whose fentanyl-incapacitated mother leaves her hungry and vulnerable to drug-dealers who show unexpected noble restraint in their abuse of power
Fentanyl’s Forgotten Feeds
Crib-side bukkake
by bandanaed Bloods
dipping only ever balls
into its mouth,
suckling furiously
in cheek-hollowing latches—
their undeclared decency
irreducible to fear
of getting caught.
“We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”—Kafka (against the safe-space cancel culture pushed by anti-art bullies, left and right)