LITTLE HOWL
when I fling myself overboard
into the turbulence of day
when I sip the tropic dark
of morning in a mug
when the ignition key opens
all the lost roads of America
I want one
when the voice on the cell
is connected by blood
when I’ve put the last of fifty bulbs
in the black October earth
when vodka freezes nostrils, tickles
my mouth into believing it has wit
I want one
when the last angelic spoon
of zabaglione has been downed
when I’ve bustled with whatevers
and lie without promise or thought
when I wake the computer
and tentatively type
when
all right, all right, I know, I know
but please don’t push too hard
or I’ll tell you I’d sell my own grandmother
to the Pirates of Protuberance to have one
I’ll tell you I dreamed myself crawling
all nine floors of Macy’s in search of one
I’ll tell you the cancers in my throat
are a pack of tiny mongrels
all barking the same rabid command
Paul Genega’s latest collection of poetry is Sculling on the Lethe from Salmon Poetry in 2018. A chapbook of recent poems, Moordener Kill, is due out from Finishing Line Press in early 2020.