James Schuyler Keeps a Pet Cockroach called the Dalai Lama
& they stare endlessly
into each other’s eyes.
The ceiling fan squeaks.
Water drips from the half-
open freezer door. Jimmy
blows smoke over the Lama’s
black shell, which it
seems to enjoy. The gin
is warm & the ice
is melted. No one cares.
Charon
Half skiff, half sky,
broken lines
jut from a dark crack
in the cave’s wall.
Supine in a fever heat,
attached to
the wooden oar,
animals caught who
slowly acquiesce.
Bright orange light,
a sour taste
in our mouths, hair
blowing yet there’s no
wind, no
words, throats full
of insect
wings.
Charles Kell’s poetry and fiction have appeared in the New Orleans Review, The Saint Ann’s Review, Kestrel, Columbia Journal, The Pinch and elsewhere. Recent work appears in The Brooklyn Review, Laurel Review, and Hobart. He is assistant professor of English at CCRI and editor of the Ocean State Review. He recently completed a PhD at the University of Rhode Island with a dissertation on experimental writing, criminality and transgression in the work of James Baldwin, Rosmarie Waldrop, Joanna Scott and C.D. Wright.
Stone Quarterly 