poem

A species apart, snaggle-toothed, speech full of spitty hisses. Horse-faced with a hangover, half out his mind. Gnarl-knuckled, forearms bark-thick with scabs. Laugh, a barking dog frenzied on a chain. …

Let’s say the fix was in. Let’s say history, being human and thus short on ideas, made change from an old bag of tricks. Say this was something reported as …

The amuse-bouche was water chestnuts and duck air. The sous-chefs came out of the closet for us, and their courage was as palatable as a raspberry. An aniseed was broken …

They couldn’t give it away, I guess, so left it by the side of the road, where, obdurate, it warps. No gnawed pencils now, no fingers drumming— just catkin loads …

Apparently, it’s very, very bad to let a well-dressed man into your home. An Oxbridge accent, coupled with the claim your husband’s hurt, and he’s from Scotland Yard: disaster! When …

You might say that a clod washed away diminishes the whole, the contours of the land effaced by saintly patience of the tide, which knows that in time its tiny …