like a moth contemplates the moon
and if I were an ogre, my blood
would be petrol, my tusks
rods of weapons grade plutonium
a hissing machine, skin of iron
glowing dirty and red, beautiful
and too deadly to be bothered
as malignant planets move overhead
at peace beneath the dark branches
if I were an ogre, I would live
in the dead winter grass, the cold earth
warmed only by my step: I would live
in the ruins of industry, smokestacks
like wizard's towers: I would live
along interstates and outside the cities
if I were an ogre, I would pass unharmed
through this world, too frightening
to throw stones at, body of corroded metal
too horrifying to be violated, squatting
beneath overpasses and watching the cars
go by and into the horizon, uninterested
in what's inside
-- Jan E. Mehmedović is a writer from the United States and tweets from @insekt__.