TOOTHLESS, HUNGRY & WILD
http://www.maverickmagazine.com/articles/276/1/TOOTHLESS-HUNGRY-amp-WILD/Page1.html
Claudia K. Grinnell
Claudia K. Grinnell was born and raised in Germany. She now makes her home in Louisiana, where she teaches at the University of Louisiana at Monroe. Her poems have appeared in various print and ezines, most recently in such places as Exquisite Corpse, Hayden's Ferry Review, New Orleans Review, Mudlark, Janus Head, Minnesota Review, and Blue Moon Review.By Claudia K. Grinnell
Published on 07/16/2004
I.
I would go to war to defend my positions, he said.
The room breaks out in laughter.
It is a small room. There are no windows. A man
Pulls on a leash.
I would go to war to defend my positions, he said.
The room breaks out in laughter.
It is a small room. There are no windows. A man
Pulls on a leash.
I.
I would go to war to defend my positions, he said.
The room breaks out in laughter.
It is a small room. There are no windows. A man
Pulls on a leash.
Dual extraction farms spring up: crawfish
Feed on rice not fit
For human consumption.
The frail dog chases a few
Dustbunnies. An auction is about to begin.
A steady throbbing light illuminated the scene, shadows,
Skeletons of white and air
II.
Of course, I would. No other reason on earth,
Except to know that I am right.
Stopping only to refuel, to touch the powerlines, to drop
A grand on seven. All letters are carefully written,
With an eye
Toward immortality. Or at least a mention.
Whatever happens
Next
Depends on
III.
Whatever makes you say that.
There are seven laundered shirts in the carry-on.
IV.
What we know of the dark.
A hard wind pushes, pushes.
There's no end in their sights.
There exists the possibility
The great man will find
A soft woman, not in love with him,
Therefore not
Vulnerable, but what if the story fails
Here and the leash wraps 'round
Another man's wrist. Seven blocks,
Even downhill, is a long way to crawl.
Copyright © Claudia K. Grinnell, 2004. All Rights Reserved.
I would go to war to defend my positions, he said.
The room breaks out in laughter.
It is a small room. There are no windows. A man
Pulls on a leash.
Dual extraction farms spring up: crawfish
Feed on rice not fit
For human consumption.
The frail dog chases a few
Dustbunnies. An auction is about to begin.
A steady throbbing light illuminated the scene, shadows,
Skeletons of white and air
II.
Of course, I would. No other reason on earth,
Except to know that I am right.
Stopping only to refuel, to touch the powerlines, to drop
A grand on seven. All letters are carefully written,
With an eye
Toward immortality. Or at least a mention.
Whatever happens
Next
Depends on
III.
Whatever makes you say that.
There are seven laundered shirts in the carry-on.
IV.
What we know of the dark.
A hard wind pushes, pushes.
There's no end in their sights.
There exists the possibility
The great man will find
A soft woman, not in love with him,
Therefore not
Vulnerable, but what if the story fails
Here and the leash wraps 'round
Another man's wrist. Seven blocks,
Even downhill, is a long way to crawl.
Copyright © Claudia K. Grinnell, 2004. All Rights Reserved.