by Wyatt Sparks
in a spiral of men
in the age of girlfriends
worse and worse
so many suspects
NIGHT—IN A MANSION—XANADU
one terrible mountain, lurid
No, more like a hill
A body that could be solved
floating in the pool, swollen like a dead sea monster—all teeth and a limp red tongue through
the remaining white pieces
A really good lay doesn't mean the world
won't have another and another.
This is a revenge poem
where the stolen teeth
are angry crows
plucked for the old and the ugly
and I am neither
and you are neither and we both know that
now until you are thirty.
All of Us
It is a romance now
The detective is the one to catch the murderer
These things are written about in the movies
ON THE BEAT: 29 y/o Detective to 15 y/o Juvenile Delinquent
JD.: I saw
An attractive lady
through the v of her tucked legs and inexpensive boots
and the cuts on her thighs.
D.: Her red crotch
is that correct?
JD.: Licking the corner of each page
They had to sew her into that dress!
D.: She was the one?
The billows of light over the curtains
which wobbles over to the cars?
Never mind it is already getting late.
JD.: Come and get on the ground
on the ground floor.
Make twice what you make
in two weeks!
D.: For all the money in the world I wouldn't.
The detective ends up on the fifth floor, wary and experimental in a good neighborhood
there is a transformation. When the walls go beige
one calendar year ahead, he has given up the case
feeding his wife's underbite instead of working it
as if he was a werewolf, waiting
to declutter his apartment by buying
the smallest pieces of art he can afford
by trapping his books in one corner of the room
and keeping the dust loose like a whore.
it's a family meal
so carryout comes
—the family has very little fiber anymore
and he chokes on a tooth
found in the teriyaki
from the missing murderer.