Monday, 6 June 2016


The rain pool
 Stevie Howell

Let’s ride on mountain
bikes to the haunted house. Empty-bellied
ppl drawn

to shadows.
Cicadas climb toward concert pitch.
Asphalt fumes

skinned knees
fresh cut grass. Love for anything gutted.
A melted toilet

hangs in strings.
Bubblegum. Porno mags strewn in rubble
a post-hoc shrine

Gum whets
appetites. So do boys. So does the sun.
Where’d they go

the family
who fled here as united in cause as cicadas.
A superfamily.

Pop quiz:
What’s worse—sunstroke or hunger?
A curfew

or latch-key?
If freedom is chaos, chaos is love.
It’s love, then.

It’s cool. We swim
in the haunted, rain-filled kidney pool
Coitus is

so funny
such a sex-ed word for it. Gobs of leaves
ghosts grabbing

our ankles
are reeds in a northern lake. No, were in
a reef,

somewhere equatorial,
schools of surgeonfish brushing by
our limbs, coral.

Harmless as
they are beautiful. You never asked
to be born.

Neither did
the oblong orbit of my mother.
Water trembling

the moon.
What we’ve found is as beautiful as
it is harmless.

Stevie Howell | Toronto  ON |  2016

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