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Nov |
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a poem by Andrew Rihn
Knots
I want
to be able
to answer
them, to just spew
responses
like a bulimic
at a dinner party.
I want to know,
with the precision
of an Eagle Scout,
how one's guts
are tied. To be
at once both
the boat and
the dock, to feel
the rope between
then and now
sliding between
my palms
like a boy's
first try
at masturbation.
to be able
to answer
them, to just spew
responses
like a bulimic
at a dinner party.
I want to know,
with the precision
of an Eagle Scout,
how one's guts
are tied. To be
at once both
the boat and
the dock, to feel
the rope between
then and now
sliding between
my palms
like a boy's
first try
at masturbation.