Unlikely 2.0


   When you give food to the poor, they call you a saint. When you ask why the poor have no food, they call you a communist. —Helder Camara


Join our mailing list!


Google Custom Search


Recent Articles:

The League of Non-Voters continues in A Sardine on Vacation
Two New Translations of Pablo Neruda by Sigerson
Gabriel Ricard reviews The Book of Hopes and Dreams and interviews the editor
Five Altered Photographs by Anna Maly
Two Collages in Six Images by Adrian Kenyon
Disintegration: A Short Film by Ginnetta Correli
Eighteen minutes of music by the Clockwork Dolls
Resisting an Underlying Moral Vacuum by Emily Spence
Legalizing Crime by Sam Vaknin
Stephen Lendman on Kevin Cooper
Lorna Salzman on climate change and creationism
Eileen Fleming on Mordechai Vanunu
A Sardine on Vacation takes on sneezing
Sigerson translates selections from Fleurs du Mal
Three Poems by Joshua Conklin
Three Poems by Justin Carmickle
Three Poems by Robert Louis Henry
Three Poems by Sam Schild
Three Poems by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Two Poems by Cassandra Dallett
Two Poems by Ed Coletti
Three Poems by Lyn Lifshin
Lake Waves: Fiction by Len Kuntz
The Healer: Creative Non-Fiction by Chuck Taylor
The Demotivational Speaker: Fiction by Mark Robinson
How I Lived with Myself without Going into Remission: Fiction by George Sparling


Bookmarks:

Goodreads
del.icio.us



Let's Make It New

Print this article


Three Poems by Zachary C. Bush

18.

Blindfold her        tight, not to allow light.
Strip her               slowly.
Lay her                 on granite couches clothed in velvet.
Tie her                  limbs with maroon sash.
Offer her               drinks flavored with peppermint and sweat.
Kiss her                forgotten parts.
Whisper her         to her.

Allow her              black cat to pass, without fret.

Raise her             gently.
Untie her              from restraint.
Hand her              the riding whip.
Ask her                 to drench your wounds in peroxide.
Remind her          there is no safeword.




Finding Paradise

My skin cracks into
a thousand snake-scales.

Blood-horny hyenas
scatter sideways,
in every direction,
like summer lightning
across coal-grey plateaus.

I climb down my
mountaintop, as it is safe
on the backside.




The Revolving Trap-Door

shuts tonight, hiding
her eyes
from mine.

She claws
deep-veins
into concrete walls.

A mattress is nailed to the door,
muffling the cries of
a mutilated cat.

My new infatuation
bathes upstairs
in my tub. Unaware

of the love
I keep locked
in the basement.


E-mail this article

Zachary C. Bush, 23, is a writer of poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and magazine features. He lives in South Georgia with his two cats: Luna and Tic-Tac. He is the editor of two small magazines in an even smaller town. He feels that good poetry is raw poetry.



Warning: mysql_connect(): Client does not support authentication protocol requested by server; consider upgrading MySQL client in /home/content/u/n/l/unlikely/html/comments/comments.php on line 43

Warning: mysql_select_db(): supplied argument is not a valid MySQL-Link resource in /home/content/u/n/l/unlikely/html/comments/comments.php on line 44

Warning: mysql_query(): supplied argument is not a valid MySQL-Link resource in /home/content/u/n/l/unlikely/html/comments/comments.php on line 313

Warning: mysql_fetch_array(): supplied argument is not a valid MySQL result resource in /home/content/u/n/l/unlikely/html/comments/comments.php on line 317

Comments

No comments yet
*Name:
Email:
Notify me about new comments on this page
Hide my email
*Text:
 
Powered by Scriptsmill Comments Script