Cypress Point
Karyna McGlynn
I sit in my inner-tube
On
an empty green lake,
Placid,
Flat, flat, flat.
My
parted yellow hair
Makes a little
Chinese hat
Right in the middle.
The
water is warm
Cheap beer, piss
On my ass and heels,
And I have nowhere
to go.
The Cypress tree
Looks pathetic, like a lime
Mohair
sweater
On a pale skinny girl.
A greedy turtle rolls
by
But doesn't want to talk,
So I cut summer sausage
With a paring knife.
I
suck my sliced thumb
And I spin, spin, spin, and
The blood tastes good
Going
down with pig.
I wear big square sunglasses
Suspended
between scabrous
Green backs, and his flabby
White stomach in the sky.
© Karyna McGlynn
Karyna McGlynn is a writer and photographer living in Seattle. Her work has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Wisconsin Review, Plainsongs, Pindeldyboz,
No Exit, Nidus, Poetry Midwest, Poetry Salzburg Review and Blueline. A four-time member of the National Poetry Slam Team, Karyna is the founder of Screaming Emerson Press, which publishes chapbooks by local
spoken-word poets. She attends the creative writing program at Seattle University where she is the poetry editor of the Cascadia Review.
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