He slid the stiff blade up to my ear:
Oh, fear,

thisĀ  should have been thirst, a cheapening act.
But I lacked,

As usual, the crucial disbelief. Sticky, cold,
a billfold

wet in my mouth, wrists bound by his belt,
I felt

like the boy in a briny night pool, he who found
the drowned

body, yet still somehow swam with an unknown joy.
That boy.



Straight Razor

Randall Mann


PREV / NEXTfrom this artist