Today I learned, I’m in a genre-crossing historical adventure
with a time travelling twist, one lover is leaving (tragic),
another is coming (romantic/erotic), and in between the masks
I confuse their names as I slip on banana peels between their beds

laughter aside, a slaughter ensues, as I look around the bend
of granite and steel, to peek under the concrete,
no beach, it’s just an opportunity to revisit the fact
my office is built on an ancient Indian burial ground (horror/history)

between that past and the present, the recent past opens up
its veins in the gutters, wherein the pre-gentrification junkies howl
in and out of tune with falsettos about desolation row (parody),
I applaud, they can’t hear me, I must be in someone else’s machine


BEN NARDOLILLI currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, Inwood Indiana, Pear Noir, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. He blogs at and is looking to publish a novel.