Write a poem about a town [person] that haunts you
but instead of his or her name identify the place
as a pot of scalding water being thrown in your face
then write this poem [person] a letter but in the letter
mention a few facts about how the summer moonlight
saw every [fucking] fist then ask the poem [town]
whom is still not in Hell if it ever visits the dogdead
pines where this poem lays and ask the poem [my mother]
where the Sig Sauer is buried, make a grocery list of all
the animals it’s [you’ve] killed but not until I find
the photo [bullets] of the boy sitting with his chicken
on my porch both [burning] pale and starched like a stuffed priest.
Yvonne Amey is a poet with an MFA from the University of Central Florida. Her work has appeared in The Florida Review, 50 Gs, Vine Leaves Journal, and elsewhere.
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At the Bench She unhooks her helmet and set it down level with the black…
Conversation among the Ruins, 1927 --after the painting by Giorgio de Chirico The sky is…
"Grace" If a meal begins without a prayer burt no one is around to condemn…
A Walk in Winter The snow sets the trees apart Black trunks rising from the…