By: Jerrod Bohn

 

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We Have Plans to Visit the Sex Store

Scars labeled all our possessions
mine an incision from my front door

yours a red impression like your father’s
wine-flushed cheeks. We made one

theft together, the original sheet music
the neighbor played to grow gooseberries

their thorns a cannibal hymn. Had your
father known we ate them raw. Had we?

 

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We Used to Have Daffodils

The winter cart had a woman tied beneath its wheels. Neither of us knew her name. By the size of her pink slippers she’d once been a deer. We brought her sugarwater & poured it through the hole where her left nipple should have been. Eventually, a sunflower grew there. Overnight, its petals turned into a meadowlark’s nest. She stood up that morning, dusted a word from her dress & floated away.

 

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Jerrod E. Bohn finished his MFA in poetry at Colorado State University. His work has appeared or is soon forthcoming in Phoebe, The Montreal Review, alice blue, Calamus Journal, Jazz Cigarette, Spry, Word For/Word, Smoking Glue Gun, Watershed Review and elsewhere. A full-length poetry book, Animal Histories, is forthcoming from Unsolicited Press. He currently lives in Fort Collins where he teaches yoga and community college writing courses and enjoys cooking and getting outdoors.