Winter 2012 • Vol. XXXIV No. 1 Poetry |

Stable

Bloody, slick, and fierce, I slid out of the womb. My heart was underfed. My mouth began to foam. At six I bit my lip and took to backyard voguing: I struck a rigid pose in vigilante leggings. I stole our family hearse. I had the goods to sell. My underpants were used: he liked that they were small. At twenty-one I bought a microwave and warmed a frozen Hungry Man. My bachelorhood, confirmed. (For six read seventeen, for microwave read purse, for Hungry read alone, for hearse and womb read horse.) I have a private stable. I roll around and whinny. I'm dying to be groomed. So here's your pile of money, and there's my pile of oats. I'll let you brush my mane. Just promise me you'll keep your mouth away from mine.

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RANDALL MANN was awarded the 2003 Kenyon Review Prize in Poetry for Complaint in the Garden, recently published by Zoo Press. His work has appeared in Paris Review, Pleiades, Poetry, and Salmagundi. He lives in San Francisco.

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By Randall Mann

Bloody, slick, and fierce, I slid out of the womb. My heart was underfed. My mouth began to foam. At six I bit my lip and took to backyard voguing: […]

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Bloody, slick, and fierce, I slid out of the womb. My heart was underfed. My mouth began to foam. At six I bit my lip and took to backyard voguing: […]

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