“The poem has a very clever title and is delightfully inventive from there on. The word choices are stunningly original throughout. This poem does what all good poems do: surprise and delight. The poem uses vivid details in lush and…
The little fish yawns like an operatic tenor,
as if he wants to sing to the clams that are digging—
to the coral reefs who are judging
that b-flat that he is belting.
The little fish yawns like my dog Buttons
after she wakes from her…
Tastes like cardboard,
you say, face scrunched,
wistful of a mother’s recipe
you haven’t yet mastered.
I swallow my offense:
this may be the last time
I hear it; your voice.
Stacked by the front door with my fellow fallen…
I cannot consent to swallow your love cold—
down my throat you pour, I choke.
At five years we left your stranglehold.
From you, my childhood was pigeonholed,
left alone, you couldn’t phone despite us being kinfolk.
I cannot consent…