“Cabin Porn” – “Executive Ensuite”

Cabin Porn

I mute utopia
on social media so
it’s impossible
to tell no-one
is trying any more.
At least Ted Kaczynski
had a vision, even if
the only people
who fully understood
were his pen pals.
I wonder if he ever finished
that stack of New Yorkers?
It’s good to have goals—
Grandfather Rabbit
scrolling Montana snowcrust
knows dinner can be
your identity. A word
for untying what
if’s red ribbon.
Prick your ears
for the whimper.

Executive Ensuite

They storm the sad little room
where I make decisions impacting
our investors—masked assassins
paid by my former lover
the Chair of No Board.

What if I told you peace
is both product and price?
Jet spray of Kurosawa
blood. Financial projection.
Pages stuck together,
investor report. What if I told you
this happened all the time?

I sheath my katana,
kick aside scattered limbs.
Overseas, my personal assistant
straps plastique to the fuselage
of a corporate Airbus.
It’s the cost of doing

beauty; you grab a handful of
futures and swallow
as paralegals take notes.
There is no record of collusion with.
We found no evidence that.
Witnesses reported a loud.

I’ve failed upward so many times
I met god. What if I told you his name
Is Now? What if I told you
there’s room in here for you, too?

Bryce Warnes lives in a small house on an island with his family. His poems have appeared in PRISM International, the Malahat Review, and Poetry is Dead. Don’t try to find him.