Poetry by Doug Baldwin | (Honorable Mention, 2008)

This Poem Isn't About You

Tail freaking
Tripping down a rabbit hole
and climbing out a sewer.
Nappy golden
bright brown monkey mama,
pickin' at her eyes.
I never cry.
I never die.
I never stop to ask for directions
or the score in the big game.

And you have 10 seconds.

Have some drugs.

You now have 9 seconds.

I know all the right people.

You now have 8 seconds.

I'm dangerous and funny.

7 seconds.

I think I'm falling.

Sorry, times up.

What about the other 6 seconds?

I left them on the farm with my grandmother and my dog.
I traded them for liquor and rough sex.
I burned them, in the box, without even looking inside.
I sold them, along with my soccer trophies.
I cooked them up and shot them into my tit.

And then I left them at the river.

four seconds is all
anyone gets.
no one stays
to pick the scabs
and cuddle,
except the children
and the assholes.

Doug Baldwin drives a forklift in Minneapolis.