January 2006 /Volume Seven / Issue One
Jason Floyd Williams
we gotta sort things out.

In my dream, I was
in my grandparents' kitchen
& my grandfather was
cooking you in a
large pot.
When I asked if
you were done, he pulled-out
all these lumps of
fleshy Play-Doh & began
to stack them on top
of each other.

Finally, you were formed.
I copped a Dracula, and
bit you in the neck,
twice.
And like the redness
behind under-cooked chicken,
I could tell you
weren't ready yet.

So he dismantled you
& put your pieces back
into the pot.
RETURN TO JANUARY 2006