Anthony Blake

Wyoming, U.S.A.

and we’re playing
that game where we drink
every time the channel two radar
pings by a major highway

the guy next to me
frames water towers
for a living, fumbles under
his armpit toward a welding scar
that feels like a bruised pear

outside the rain is smoking out
the litigated wildlife !25! it’s cold
a handful of spruce huddles
just past the ranch lights,
leering over

our shadows bear us up
the top branches
and I’m afraid again,
the asylum they make of voices

don’t mistake me, I’ve killed
a rabbit with a lawn mower

but I’ve seen this guy buy one
from a pet store
and eat its heart out

But what is it !10! / !10!  you want?
Beyond money, the promise
of someone to roll
his quartz skull back
into this named world,
is that it?

still we’re drinking straight
from a jug of sweet red
and his teeth are rabid
we probably look like a couple
of

Anthony Blake is a poet from Louisville, KY. He is currently an MFA candidate at the University of Arkansas, where he serves as managing editor and designer for the Arkansas International. You can reach him via his website: anthonyjblake.net.
MORE POEMS