The monk told my recently divorced friend that no woman would everfuck him again if he kept carrying around that bag that looked like a pursewe laughed wondered if murse was the proper term for this cross betweena satchel and a pouch we’re both poets me and my friend so it’s only naturalthat this end up in a poem for the valiant way to complain is to create sometimesartists get to complain and call it art sometimes artists complain and no one listensbut my friend living in a monastery in Germany with the monk for two weekscould not speak about how incredulous he was about this declaration because whatdid the monk know about sex I’m thinking probably enough with respect to howit might pertain to a certain type of woman…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, March/April 2024