everything gone
flaccid
my droopy blue
suede
strap on

little anchors
in clouds
precipitated worms
choke fly
crows
like bags of black keys
not meant to amuse
you
never know when to screw

when called upon, I act
test
fuck it with lips
and teeth
slashed
less like price,
more like tires
named for rain and snow

barefoot thru
the rose bush,
caress a raw mess
of thyme
on your
deep puncture wounds
has never been what to do

Image credit:Adrien Ledoux

Anthony Hughes is no Luddite, but he misses the zip and spin of rotary dial phones. Dialing someone with a lot of O's in their number could get annoying though. He lives in Deep South Texas, enjoys a strong back, crawling, and talking about himself in the third person.