Adam Day's forthcoming collection is Winter Inventory (Sarabande Books).
He is the recipient of a 2010 Poetry Society of America Chapbook Fellowship
for Badger, Apocrypha, and of a 2011 PEN Emerging Writers Award. His work
has appeared in the Boston Review, Lana Turner, APR, Guernica, Iowa Review,
BOMB, AGNI, Kenyon Review and elsewhere. He directs the Baltic Writing
Residency in Latvia, Scotland, and Bernheim Forest.
The Most of Freedom
In the next sleeping compartment
the rich and bitch of riff raff—
sex with the endless enthusiasm
of a true cocksman, connoisseur
of licks and pricks, taken with both
fists, the horse's favorite whip, a stag,
lean arms plunged into a bog, and the smell
of mermaid snatch. Must be havin' a good
shame. When the door slides open into the track-
tack and flicker of passing lights, she's patting
his head amid sensible shrinkage,
saying, "We'll take a walk in the park,
and some valium pills." To his, "It's just I want
to take care of you." And her, "I don't feel nervous now."
He was born,
his little paws
fumbling the air
and we took
at his overcast
cock and said,
off the top."
Carter Condemned to Death Cheats the Gallows
Don't be scared.
"So, I sent my sweet gnarly bear claw
through his nasal cartilage. The blood,
man! Reality check—that I could
make a man flow. Like bleed.
But damn. How in the hell
does someone learn to say
that shit? Like: 'Yup, gonna go hit
up this college party, where
all the drippin' trim's just howlin'
to get raped on the go. Just
gonna grab a little one and tell 'er
that. Tell 'er she's gonna take
a good pounding, 'n' look good
doin' it. That'll get things started.
Just like my Pa always said
it would. Man. I should've just fuckin'
taken his ass down right there
and raped him. Like not 'gine rape, but
like 'Oh, you feel like a li'l rape? Okay
then,' and just, I dunno, fisted him,
or some shit. No easing into it,
no mercy, just goin' for it. Right there
in front of all his peoples. Definite
squeal like a piggy status. Goddamn."
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