You could have a big dipper   

A Poem by D.M. Dunn

Wiccan Attempting to Write Hulkling a Sonnet without Magik after He Sees the Image of the Demiurge in the Sky


 







Billy wanted to write the moment he saw the heavenly face he shouldn’t have seen.

After reading Browning in Freshman English, he’s taken with the form because he’s young

and in love and that’s who sonnets are for. How do I love thee? He thinks he can count all the ways—

infinite they may be. But the demiurge can count every bit of all. And so he starts,

Have you ever wanted to put a piece of driftwood

in your mouth until the metaphor became too heady?

He hopes to work in the sodium sea spreading through. Now, though, he just wants to kiss Teddy’s neck,

its salty sweat, instead of writing this poem that’s just going to be fourteen lines of veiled dicks.


He wonders if a couplet is enough. The beginning of everything only needed a word, after all.

He should know. He was there, demiurging everyone to come out and play. Probably.

showmethewordsshowmethewordsshowmethewordsshowmethewords

He fails in ambiguity.

showmetheworldsshowmetheworldsshowmetheworldsshowmetheworlds

He recovers nicely.


 

D. M. Dunn works as a publishing director in the Midwest, where he lives with his partner and two dogs. You can find his most recent work at Button Eye Review, Versification, and Drunk Monkeys. Connect with him on Twitter @dmdunnwriter.

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