Todd Colby

Two Poems

In a Stern Way

Maroon crust ripped from my lips

a dime of butter dipped in battery juice

a plate of olives drizzled with antifreeze

an old hand nailed to a goat

thin strips of rubber knife paste on toast

guns drawn on tracing paper

a silver crayon enthusiastically.



Salute

Slapping a red flower

in the bright air

with a plastic knife

until it’s purple

on my side

from dancing.

There is almost

always typhoid

in a body of water

near the suburbs.

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