SUPER ARROW

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WHAT WILL HAPPEN///BASSETT

ONE NIGHT...///BASSETT

ON THE SURFACE///BYRNES

GORDON NOW///DENNIS

SUGAR///OGILVIE

[PARABLE...]///BATEMAN

CIRCA 193,000 B.C.///DAVID

GENERAL MOTORS...///ESTES

LIFE BEFORE RUGBY///G'SELL

I WISH I WAS...///G'SELL

BEGGAR...///HYLAND

A MAN-SHAPED GLOW...///HYLAND

DIRECT ADDRESS///KLAVER

A THE BEAUT///KLAVER

TWO POEMS///SOMERVILLE

MY PHANTOM STUFF///RAVEN

COME OVER...///ZAMMARELLI

CONVERSATION///COMMUNITY

 

 

I WISH I WAS A PRAYING WOMAN Eileen G'Sell

For all the world's woeful, purple imperatives,
for integrals, for plum-sucking female cops,
for pulchritude as some bozo's unpretty word, for every
lame and sorry excuse, supernal stupidity,
purebred dog, I push myself from a cluttered table,
assured that the worst is still to come.

Two bunnies under a truck, we expected
the town to be busy. And it was. And we sure
paid for it, like groupies over a dirty tab.
I was down on my luck and up from the snow
and the parking lot was tragic. Unforgivable
tea leaves, a lot to lose in so little time.

But I'm nobody's Abigail, and I'm nobody's
Joan. For all the nights I spent wanting you
to fight off vapid angels, the heavens are
spending big money, big money, forever
so far off, or gone, that faith makes a break
for it once and for all.

Winter is pointless if you're not getting laid.