Watch Another Episode

Watch enough police procedurals on television
and the bland benignity of most of life begins to drip
away – to slip through apertures all lubricated with
a murdered human being’s blood: everything is DNA –

betrayed by every shred and bit and morsel in the flood
and splay and spectrum of the flesh: demons lurk

in semen: follicles are diabolical – and you will never spit

into the bathroom sink again without believing you are

somehow tendering your essence and identity to those
inevitably prying dour forensic snoopers – gorgeous
women, men who coolly primp, parade their sexy bodies
in Las Vegas or Miami or Manhattan’s lurid midnight

light entirely to apprehend such fetishistic secretive
degenerates as you. Take your cue: lock your door:
reassure yourself there won’t be any more: be strong.

But watch another episode and know you’re wrong.

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