The other night I was thinking
About teeth
I was drinking rum
And reading
A message from a friend who felt
That the amount
Of fight and purity
I craved had nothing
To do with the cardinal winds
A pin dropped
I heard the stop sign
A nightingale and a raven
Made angry love
Midair
I was thinking about secret agents
How sometimes their teeth
Are hollowed
Capsules full of cyanide
How other
Times they’ll kill
The landlord or sleep
With your teenage daughter
Then look you in the eye
And say
This never happened.
Glen Armstrong edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has three recent chapbooks: Set List (Bitchin Kitsch,) In Stone and The Most Awkward Silence of All (both Cruel Garters Press.)
Wanton Fuckery Poetry 