in response to a dr. phil soundboard
your drawl scrawls
through my ears at 4pm.
i shut the tv off.
you’re still there,
you southern god.
you’re rancid & you blow
your nose with money.
a man without a mercy-bone.
i am convinced
you could make me
domestic like a rag-doll.
you would mark me as mad,
worthy of an axe,
or maybe a second broadcast.
but i would show you
only my ringworm,
how it grows
to a golf ball,
then a peach.
see?
pigeon-voiced,
you’d yell at me not to cry,
& i’d choke you
with your favorite blue tie.
you would die
kinky, whispering
confidentialities in your dead sleep.
can’t you cure me?
***
Samantha Fain is an MFA candidate at Bowling Green State University. Her work has appeared in Rattle Poets Respond, The Indianapolis Review, SWWIM, Utterance, and others. She tweets at @smnthfn.
***
image: Jesse Hilson
Rejection Letters 