Deanna Rodger

Deanna Rodger – the first DRUGSTORE CULTURE poet

16 September 2018 22:56

Terror is the pupil of an inferno.
The bottom line burning beneath blue eyed skies

Terror has the infra red GPS breath of fat berg sewage; a holy halitosis, liquor license and Welsh rarebit

Terror travels as a removal van. Is hired
Is a billion pound handshake. An arms deal. Transaction

Terror carries a contagious disease. A loitering headline infecting communication. Masked beneath a polite cough.

Typecast other. Insurgent. Acronym. Martyr complexion
Whites-right colour fear

Terror fears finding itself in a stranger’s face.

A shadow falling from the west end stage, wearing a hero’s costume.
An implosion of post traumatic stress, healthcare cuts. The touch of caution
Of distance: sand and dust, of business and city.

What does their voice sound like? Like siren’s whips
Like helicopters chopping the sky to bits
Like the shrieks of grown ups killing their kids
a clipped dialogue
A slit throat invasion of a rusty dagger pressed with the rigour of nuclear digs.

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