Josh English

Between Dog and Wolf

It’s the hour between dogpark
and field full of shit,

the hour between waiter-actor
and career server. It’s the evening

the armless man gets on his knees
and fixes his pursed lips

to the nozzle of an inflatable raft
and just breathes the sour air

in there, before posting it,
never used, mint condition.

It is the New Year’s I start smoking again.
Rain springs from an umbrella as it pops open.

It’s late at night when you wake me.
I was dreaming one of my famous

Freudian numbers, the one
where I lose my penis

in the sand dunes, and have to shovel
them all into pits to find it.

And now it’s nearly morning
and we’ve drilled holes

in the moon’s face with our yelping,
we’re littered with silver corkscrew shavings

as the moon takes on water
and sinks under the bed.

Wendy XuJosh English is currently in the MFA at University of Alabama. His reviews and poems pop up here and there.