Poem of the Month
Insurance Claim

By Mark Callanan

Published on May 1, 2012

Here’s how it panned out:
the stick of dynamite,
thrown on the pond
to break up ice for trout

was snapped up
by that poor mutt,
remembering git, boy, git
and the swift kick

that came with disobedience.
So they lost their shit
and started shooting,
anything to ward him off.

And he, stick in his gob
like a giant cuban—stupid
fuck—crouched under cover
of their brand new truck.

More Poetry

Feel Happier in Nine Seconds

I learned the secret of serenity
by waterboarding daffodils.
My Buddha is landfill.
My mantra choked

The Genus Nabokovia

Taste of tangerine.
Blue as Tuesday.
Wings, the texture of powdered sugar

Novelists are serious about taxonomy–
the blur of color and text on labels
of blue butterfly genera.

The Story of Bones

The archaeologist’s daughter grew up in tombs. She spent her early childhood crawling through the volcanic ash, which preserved time. Her father dug tunnels in the ground, uncovered death masks, stumbled upon bones of winged beasts, while her baby hands clutched the cold earth.