Apparition Poem #216 (Adam Fieled)


You can force your pen into a cat’s anus
for all I care, she told him. October sun-
light hit the grimy pavement as if directed
by Rocky Balboa himself. The Art Museum,
he thinks, is mostly crap but its still imposing—
what man has made of man, fodder for gift-
shops. His working life is a gift-shop too—
no one buys anything. If he did force his
pen into a cat’s anus, they’d probably arrest
him for animal abuse. Maybe he’ll pretend that
she’s a cat. Ring the bell for round two, please.