Quảng Ngãi café
sugared coffee
tables rattle, walking bombs
each ordnance, unique cameo in foam
rpg poppies dance in breeze
mortar sea fig tree shadow drifts
rocket silhouette of mama, smiling
watch mama shudder
cousin shrieks, blood stream from temple
sister wraps her khān ran
wall leaks brick
every eye counts clan
thunderclap shakes the deck
that one, further away
baby girl, mute in bassinet
pull back cover—sticky
raw flesh, butchered rabbit
nose, mouth—
fountains
—dye the white comforter
Frog and toad are friends
I glance out the bathroom window
my young son plays with a red ball
toss chase, toss chase
the swing-set has a fort at its base
a fawn lies inside
nibbles clover
my son approaches from the rear
fawn inches out through the lattice
steps away sniffing the lawn
my son squats where the fawn lay
rolls his red ball
I rinse my razor, glance out again
my sister, on the porch of her house
hands my son a translucent pail
filter in the center
he scoops mud into it
runs to a puddle
grabs handfuls of clay
looks uphill at the stone wall
my son enters the bathroom
his turn to shave
I ask him to look out the window
can he see himself as a toddler?
I tell him this view is the apex
of my happiness
he spies a toad leaping across the grass
The Grim Reaper
I scoff at your depiction
scythe
skeleton
black hood
black cloak
black hole face
well, there you are
I suck everyone in
truth is
you can't see me
I masquerade as virus
ride the rapids of your arteries
land my island hopping guerrillas
on lungs pancreas breasts blood
even appendix tonsils
I gauge every possibility
when the bill comes due
I may clog your carotid
or
burst a capillary in your brain
that’s kindness
compared to the wars I start
fragging DNA
turning cells malignant
by the time you notice I'm dug in
you near kill yourself
cutting tissue out
pumping poison through your veins
burning flesh
in the end
you wave a white flag
as for me
I was here before you were born
I carry on
uncloaked
Richard H. Fox dreams on Sanibel Island FL and in Worcester MA. When not writing about rock ’n roll or youthful transgressions, his poems focus on cancer drawing on hope, humor, and unforeseen gifts. He is the author of three poetry collections: Time Bomb (2013), wandering in puzzle boxes (2015), You’re my favorite horse (2017) and a chapbook: The Complete Uncle Louie Poems (2017). The winner of the 2017 Frank O’Hara Prize, he seconds Stanley Kunitz' motion that people in Worcester are "provoked to poetry.” smallpoetatlarge.com