My Ass
It’s like precious china. A fresh white, virtually blue. Touch it, and it appears almost to melt, softly giving way. The spot touched turns the slightest pink, as if bashful, and surely, if bitten into, it would taste sweet, with . . .
Brick, a literary journal
Brick
PO Box 609, Stn P
Toronto, ON M5S 2Y4
Canada
Each poet will write / their own hell. In mine, like yours, / I’ll be condemned to beauty. — Yusuf Saadi