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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