The last time we had sex was almost a month ago. I didn’t shower afterward because I wanted to keep your smell on me. Instead I went into the thicket and chopped wood. When I broke your hatchet, you wouldn’t stop singing. I wanted to buy you a new one and then ran into commercial troubles. You shrugged and turned the furnace back on. The painting on the wall above you began to wheeze. The pirates in the painting were dueling without clear intentions. Their ship was stuck on a sandbar and I didn’t see any sign of booty. The modest pirate’s sash migrated up around his chest. He seemed destined for dark matters. You sat on the couch making straw dolls for the incoming crop of students. I didn’t welcome these dolls and was jealous of their pamper. You were capable of whipping out twenty-six and three-quarters dolls per hour, which was serious money in those radiant times. Out in the pasture, my llama spat into a patch of fireweed. I should have got back on my llama and made my way to the honey shack.
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JASON TOBIN is currently an MFA candidate in the New Writers Project at the University of Texas at Austin and poetry editor for Bat City Review. He splits his time between Austin and Portland.
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Poet Douglas Kearney and composer/producer/drummer Val Jeanty link up for a a compelling LP that feels like the written word come to life. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2021