In Paris catacombs, bones shiver with each explosion.
Walls of femurs and skulls disassemble,
reintegrate into skeletons sucking off, scissoring,
doing it doggy style, the reverse cowgirl,
sixty-nining away as though juice dripped
from powdery mandibles. The devil flosses his teeth
with wire from suicide vests, picks his molars
with a jammed AK-47. The Eiffel Tower’s going dark,
its light dripping down into the tunnels,
firing up the old widow maker once again.
*Terrorists killed 89 people at the Bataclan theater in Paris in November of 2015.