MAYHEM
Issue Three – October 2015
ISSN 2382-0322
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Fabian Tipene
Yellow-Gap-Grin
Who put you up to it?
Is your laugh a nervous or defiant one?
Either way, we all managed to inherit it
Broad and devoid of fucks
Breath expelled like chips in a game of craps
Did they give you the suit?
So we could give a face to your savagery
Folded in bush of green and brown
The bowler capping your head
Like a blunt bullet at the end of a shell
You could fall asleep
Inside the barrel of a gun, I bet
More than one set of lines
Cut into your face like the spinal grooves
Of cabbage tree leaves
Side by side with the gutters
That time etched into your collagen
I’d wager you were a survivor
Because you should have been sinking
Like a pipi escaping hungry hands
But you didn't
you kept
fucking
smiling
Because a walk down a trail of tears
Don't mean shit to you, brother
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