UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY


CODY BADARACCA

Cold night along the Mississippi

He rolled up outta his chair
like a dead body rolls up
off the river bottom

when the gases get too much
inside and floats it like a balloon

Eyes grinnin' yellow and pale
reflectin' a gray moon overhead

He rolled up and hit me
and I felt his fist take the place
where my jaw might've been
should've been.

I felt my teeth clink side
ways like tinkling piano keys
breaking to the sound
like a hammer on glass and I
felt just like that dead body

that eventually I knew I'd become

My pain grew up tall
and a very dull feeling began to encompass me
as blow
after blow

began to yellow my eyes w/ that leering skeletal
grin of his
pulling through my vision
into my memory
like a magnet flecked w/ blood

I don't remember the river,
just that clouds had begun to cover over the moon.


Cody Badaracca grew up in North Routt County, Colorado, near the town of Clark. He has a B.A. in journalism and is the publisher and owner for Voices Of [the] Goat Publishing, which exists largely in his mind and on his laptop. He's been published in My Favorite Bullet.

He sometimes dreams about living in the desert of New Mexico or the bayou of Louisiana. If for no other reason, the variety of reptiles and the mild winters.







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