we lay ourselves down for a quick slide with
the devil we only wanted a couple of easy
couplings we could use to spawn a triumph
or two over a foe and cow all the other
kids in the neighborhood but now we find
ourselves gravid with the infant a huge
hydrocephalic baby he insists we bear
no coat hanger or mouthful of pills
will abort this mushroom-headed brat whose
birth will tear out our entrails split our belly boil
our blood and stuff our mouths full of ashes
prepare the crèche! the child’s arrival is nigh
(Copyright 2023 by Tetman Callis.)
she’s a work-study at the university library
almost as tall as i am, and i am tall
she wears clothes that fit her nicely
i’m trying not to look, i’m checking out a book
something ancient and tragic
she’s the one who will do the processing
get the book checked out, her blouse open to her navel
i look down the counter, away from her
she can’t be a day over twenty-five
an age i haven’t seen in ages
i wish i were one of her professors
i should have stayed in school
(Copyright 2023 by Tetman Callis.)
“No living creature, not even man, has achieved, in the centre of his sphere, what the bee has achieved in her own; and were some one from another world to descend and ask of the earth the most perfect creation of the logic of life, we should needs have to offer the humble comb of honey.” – Maurice Maeterlinck, The Life of the Bee