July air on the fourth floor so thick it jams the fan
a flock of goslings, necks wrung: something choked but dazzling
I can live without you. and I can live with just one lung
all slender and spare as a scarecrow. as a mummified pharaoh
the evening proceeds. highballs being my hobby horse
and, unless I am mistaken, champagne's yours
we oughtn't but will. it's something about the fan spinning
on the window sill. it's something we've been warned about, like sin
refractory church guilt from adolescence. how rich:
Cadillac sounds like Catholic sounds like carsick
when you call it a war, what are you getting at, pet?
to me it's a game. on your mark, set: fix bayonets
Andrew Purcell lives and works in Syracuse, NY. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in the Baltimore Review, the Adirondack Review, Weave Magazine, and Forge Journal, among others. He is the editor of Tirage Monthly.