Dana Guthrie Martin

Excision

We've dredged this up by the roots
when all we wanted was a normal day.
Now we touch its scales, its moldy bark,
push our fingers into its crevices.
It twists in on itself like a blood tumor.
We sit on the sofa while it rots
between us. We shift our light
hands along its surfaces
and wonder where we are going
to rebury the damn thing.

 

 

Hanging out with David

The day you so deliberately pulled your
cock out as if you were grabbing the root
of a felled tree and yanking it free from the soil.
But also with mock confidence,
hoping the mere sighting would make me
part my legs and wrap my lips around it.
I show it to all the girls, you explained.
I'd only seen two other dicks,
so even as I shrieked I took in
your river veins, muscle and bentwood curve.
Later, I wondered why I didn't stuff
myself with it. How taken aback
you would have been if I had.




Prim

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© Dana Guthrie Martin lives and writes in the Seattle area. She is currently pursuing her MFA in creative writing. Her work has appeared in Fence magazine.

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