Two Poems by Steve Calamars

the main course

i load shot-gun shells
the size of salt-shakers
into a revolver that looks
more like a cargo-plane
than a hand-gun

you see i’ve decided to
bite the bullet and eat
death alive

slipping the barrel in my mouth
i begin to salivate and start
chomping at the bit

i squeeze the trigger

buck-shot blows across
my taste-buds and out
the back of my skull

peppering the wall and
leaving me with nothing but
a bad taste in my mouth—

sucker punched

she gets inside my
chest and roughs up
my heart pretty good

a couple of jabs
a few right hooks

she says she’s just

but something must
be getting thru
‘cause i can feel
every blow

she’s left my poor ol’
heart with a black-eye
and a busted lip

she says she’s just
interested in light sparring
and some foot-work

but somewhere in our
exchange a body-shot
slips in

now i’m down on one knee
gasping for air

wishing i had put up a
better defense and not
taken her advances so

1 comment:

Opium Poetry said...

"main course" really hit me in the gut, steve


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