Arts

Flathead

Image by Duane Raver

Flathead

by Wes Houp

He no longer curates
the muddy bottom

with his barbels
but dries on a shoal,

spines like ancient
sun-bleached tools

for punching leather
and mouth structure

like an ornate hinge
to the dark,

hyporheic
end of the world.

Behold the hideous
width of head,

eating its way
through the ass

of a continent,
a blunt press and

inconsolable
grunt-box

designed by a sadist
for the hard

and thankless
labor of the blues.

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