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Sunday, May 8, 2016

"The Red Kitchen" and Other Poems From The Blood Dark Sea

Dennis Gulling will be doing a reading from his book of outlaw poetry The Blood Dark Sea May 14th in Rockford at CNVR. Here are five poems from that book, which is now available at Zombie Logic Press.


SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER

When she says there
Aren’t any nice men left
What she really means
Is there are no
Nice rich handsome men left
And every man she’s tried
Was just another chocolate
In the box
She can’t seem to find
The flavor she wants
And she leaves them driven stupid
Struck dumb
Too scared to move
He wants to be everything she’s looking for
But he doesn’t have a clue
He hears her name in the breath
Held before a kiss
She leaves her fingerprints in his dreams
Just beyond his reach
The last thing he remembers
Before waking
Is a laugh like the ghost of a song
He can’t recall ever hearing
But knows he will never forget

                                    Venti Bitchy by Jenny Mathews


BRADEN

Braden heard the door creak
And was grabbing for the pistol
In his belt when Patterson
Came in with the shotgun leveled
He unloaded both barrels
Before Braden could pull the trigger
The blast tore his face apart
And splashed thick red drops
All over the money on the desk
Patterson wedged the shotgun
Under one arm and started scooping
All the bills into his pockets
Licking blood off fingers as he went
Braden’s left eye
Hung on his cheek
And watched the ceiling fan
Stir the stale air


ROBBER

He ran out
Of the bank laughing
Squeezing his trigger
In all directions
And went down
In a swarm of police bullets
$20 bills pasted
To his shirt
With blood


BANK

He stood in line
At the bank
Fingered the .22
In his left pants pocket
Tapped his foot
And checked his watch
Even though he didn’t
Have to be anywhere
Decided the word today
Would be love
If the teller said
That to him
He would put
A bullet through her face
Then shoot himself
Last week
The word was firecracker
In honor
Of Independence Day


RED KITCHEN

When he knew she was gone
And never coming back
He painted the kitchen
A deep blood red
2 thick coats
Walls and ceiling
Then fell asleep
On the floor
In front of the stove
He dreamed
She was waiting outside
At the curb
In a black Ford Galaxy convertible
Honking the horn
And calling his name
And then he woke up
In red silence
Feeling small and cold
Knowing
This was only the beginning
Of too many nights like this






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