Sharp Things

The Iowa Review - - FRONT PAGE -

The boy who sits pa­tiently who in alarm re­al­izes some­thing of the dan­ger of the nether­world edge the boy with cot­ton in his mouth a thin film be­tween and his fa­ther across the room turn­ing for a mo­ment his face away traf­fic pass­ing out­side school buses headed home each wrig­gling thing dis­gorged or dis­gorg­ing ear­lier his friends ask­ing where is he as the bus moves up hills and down but some­one saw his fa­ther take him early the boy with suc­tion hooked in­side the mouth and sound drilled straight hot and ashy into cere­bel­lum you will sleep well tonight you are a brave one the per­son who says it masked and mov­ing away from him boy who finds analogs for drill and nee­dle wills him­self in­side bright yel­low blur as if to move a body out of a room past re­cep­tion were to meet in­vis­i­bil­ity his own were to con­sider the not-re­turn-re­turn sce­nario its many door­ways the some­thing on its face that doesn’t tell what it knows bus num­ber eight headed un­der rail­road trel­lis Tuc­son loves you ban­ner­ing where it’s been left in all weather fa­mil­iar as the turn by the diner to­ward home

sharp things sharp things in the mouth and sharp the voice that says what’s about to hap­pen

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