Naked
by wynn everett
on the table,
ivory Jezebel,
thin and wan,
her
drunken tailor,
slobbers black
devotion across
pallid frame
like the cripple
lugging his Bedford clunk.
Threading the quill,
basting the stitch,
fastening
each word
with fervor
until she sits
upright,
here,
scrutinized, inky,
partially clothed.

Raising
by wynn everett
If the backyard finger of The Etowah remained
in first position instead of double stopping, and the
smoke from his cigarette sensed the jig out of date. If
her fork to the bowl, whipping tambourine caw, …

Standing Eight
by wynn everett
She an out-fighter
gradually tactic. He more
a swarmer, time still on the clock.
No mismatch first nine,
footwork in place,
1960’s shag platform
four feet off the grass.
Rounds ten through fifteen,
in her corner reclines
(suburban ropes
expand quietly …

Guest House
by wynn everett
From skull to heel
this house is haunted.
The mystic in albescent ribs,
apparitions sweep in cranial halls
valve flutters with each step up
stairs of belly that groan her climb.
My house is haunted.
Must be still.
She pays …

51 steps
by wynn everett
A. No Forest of Arden, forced forward
reverse, revolving in pattern,
contorting backward each rung.
Every strand of the prize in black and blue-
print, engine of fingers
gripping tight to the rail.
T. Unlocking remorse,
(men under the stairs)
if …

Visage
by wynn everett
Awake-
(when I had skin on),
I fancied walking my fingers around my jaw.
Where all ten would fight their turn –
and ridges to brain, agreed,
that I, too,
was no different.
Years could tickle or beat, but
in …