TWO POEMS by Philip Matthews

The Fishermen

close in. Two halves share a globe: two thirds
cover a surface, scaled bellies between

brothers spilling out quicker the closer
we come.


78% water

sparkling or tap
we fish w/ boiled tongue the mutated cells
flickering below Mississippi — bleached nickels in stomach

count the charge
of a brain under water: 4 ½ thousand
neurons exchanging warped orbits — picture

fangs on genitalia — rabid platypus fucking in bayou


Originally from eastern North Carolina, Philip Matthews is a poet in the Writing Program at Washington University in St Louis. His work has appeared in Apple Valley Review and Tulane Review, and is forthcoming in phati’tude. He currently serves as poetry co-editor of Arch.

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