Bulimia

By Len Kuntz I am reaching inside myself, elbow cocked toward a ceiling, fist and fingers fitted in my mouth, down the throat trying to find the key that unclogs the valve near my esophagus. But there is no air and no You, so I dredge all day, my fingers as unreliable as ever, but [...]

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My Girl

By Len Kuntz She has a ticker tape tongue, confetti white irises that loom and brood over a bridge of lash taking me in strides and stretches, stitching me into a new suit of clothes, cheese cloth or something as sheer. She wants me light and vulnerable and my girl, she might be possessive and [...]

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Some of the Things That Frighten Me

By Len Kuntz Satan and dentists and clowns. My mother’s cat claw fingernails and the grime beneath Father’s. Snakes and rats and old people’s blue-veined hands. Now it is mornings and Wallingford, our calico, staring at me as if I’m an axe murderer. The unmade bed, warm on one side, the sheets tangled up with [...]

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First Fruits

By Len Kuntz She picked me an early summer peach and held it out like a crystal ball and said to eat from her hand like a little lamb and she laughed, the wind lilting around her, the wild lawns hazy-green shimmering gray-streaked with grace.  She asked me if we would always be this happy, [...]

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Wallet

By Len Kuntz It was there on the bus when he got off so I took it, cradled the still-warm leather which was crookedly curled and molded from his shape. I breathed in the musk and sweat smell, absorbing its dull mystery. I took my time examining the contents, pleased to learn his wife was [...]

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