In a parking-lot made of dust and stones at Yorrick-Deuce’s,
y’all kiss as still as cacti hidden in your ex-
husband’s front seat. His ghost hovers the mechanical-
bull, a jostling and delirious animal, injured and convinced
it may mate before death. The moon is
carved of ivory, and appears to hover like a drowned girl
on the lake from afar. I think in terms of ghost, in terms
of the given ghost of Waylon Jennings, projected from
your blouse and a frightened boy understands
the difference between it and night. Mother,
I’m not here to forget you, I’m here to recall
the sound of the echo no one
will hear. Your ex-husband’s ear, a disturbance
amidst the butterflies in the field. The world awakens
with the gun, the gut-rot, and one shot left, floating on a lake.
Everything gained and lost; my revenge has its cost.
Shame on, and I love, The things we used to say and do.
This entry was posted in Poetry. or leave a trackback:
Trackback URL.
About Cody Todd
Cody Todd is the author of Graffiti Signatures (2013, Main Street Rag) & the chapbooks, Canvas of Ash (Forthcoming, Tebot Bach) and To Frankenstein, My Father (2007, Proem Press). His poems have appeared in the Gettysburg Review, Salt Hill, The Florida Review, and The Literary Review among other journals. He is also the Managing Editor & co-creator of the online literary journal, The Offending Adam.