Draw me a laughing Word I can chuckle at.
Draw me a joke with halo and wings
I can cackle at. In your great witness,
draw me a holy guffaw from your boots
or the bile of my belly.

Draw me the rape of reverence. Draw me
a man with a beard, a cross and an ark
full of rainbows. Draw me pillars of good
intentions, columns of justice. Draw me
his engines of comic dominion.

Draw me a child whose head your pen
can explode like a diagram.
Draw me a Laugh
I can strap to my wheels like a butterfly.
Draw me a heretic smile whose punchline
squibs flame like Roman Candles.

Draw me a Laugh I can wear on my sleeve,
a Laugh I can crucify with ridiculous
nails. Draw me a Laugh
on the business end of a missile. Draw me
a landmine of obscene hilarity.

Draw me a Laugh whose Name may never be
spoken. Draw, with a lopped-off hand,
a severed head in your absurd
desert, fused and ticking,
underground.

Draw me a laughing god whose crimson
tears boil as she weeps.

In 1965 having discovered folk music, Bob Dylan and Dylan Thomas, in that order, Dave Medd began writing poems and never really stopped. His work has been published in Outposts, Orbis, Dream Catcher, The Coffee House and elsewhere.