A Poem by Dean Young and Dean Koontz
by CL Bledsoe

I am a wolfman in the doorway
in cellophane. It's a secret

how I get my colors so vibrant.
This was before the fish people came

and made us learn to swim the hard way.

They were looking for a sacrifice
but I'd made all the ones I cared to.

Something below the floor is moving.
Something I don't know the name of

waits below for me to forget

which tap is for plant water, which
is for bath. Sara says it's too

expensive to make mistakes, with the price of rubber
since the war started. She demanded

an embargo at the teacher meeting—

all eyes slipped towards me, I touched
her hand as though unclasping a bra,

stood and spoke,
"Dagon, that was the name."

CL Bledsoe has written two collections, Anthem, and _____(want/need), and is an editor for Ghoti Magazine at http://www.ghotimag.com.

© 2008 prickofthespindle.com