The Madeira Man – Part 3

He tossed a hundred skulls aside after sipping coconut milk from the tips of the incisors.

A sun-kissed demoness fed him twenty gallons of blood,

chirping from the strings of a ukulele as tourists, ‘haoles,’

arch their backs while blunt machetes sever their arms

and pray for their funds to swoop in and rescue them

from messy beheadings and clean disembowelments.

She plants the new trees erect on the blackened beaches

and covers wounds with palm leaves.

He douses the harshest cuts with sugar and coconut seeds

so the moon can shower the waves with glistening drops of red honey.


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