Issue |
 |
January |
|
a poem by Mat Gould (1 of 2)
ice cream cones in the fire
of course
this
is
the way it goes
but
it ain't never gone
it chafes the underarms
it dries the skin
it muffles the murder
it
fingers
the
wet spot
and
eats us alive
the little prey we are
scampering lovers laying
blankets on the lawn
easy targets
for
sharp teeth
and
strange fur
with no need to cover their tracks
all
of
this
absurd licking of the wound
go ahead
take
it
in
your hand
and
suck it off
this
is
the way it goes
but
it ain't never gone
it chafes the underarms
it dries the skin
it muffles the murder
it
fingers
the
wet spot
and
eats us alive
the little prey we are
scampering lovers laying
blankets on the lawn
easy targets
for
sharp teeth
and
strange fur
with no need to cover their tracks
all
of
this
absurd licking of the wound
go ahead
take
it
in
your hand
and
suck it off