← v20n2, Fall 2021
Poetry · Volume 20, Number 2

Umbrella in a Bathtub

Slander the coffin so it

falls apart. So the corpse doesn’t

look like some

sushi. Warn the owner that the castle will

burn down. That flesh will be

inhaled. That people will

throw towels and a trough from

windows. Handles and

a trough. Alternating. Like Tesla’s

current. Like a steamboat that breaks down

outside the mill.

Like a fox curled up

in the forest. Like a child who

steps on a stool and falls.