A Boy with a Thorn

Please, Morrissey, if you can hear
me, come back to my bed-
room walls. Hand me over

twenty-two years ago. The door
gets erased by salt waves. Tear
it down now. See my green eyes.

Behind their hatred lies a murderous
desire. Say you still believe me.
Can’t escape this body no matter

how hard I try. Once we floated
a wave, broken arc, skin red
from the sun, your body open

to each crush. Forever that boy
to me in November. The animal
one becomes with the other. 

You should repent for your crime.
Bag up this cave’s detritus, crack a flame
then throw all the ash in the wind. 

I’ve kept a splinter housed
in my palm for years. Every time
it nervously tries to inch its way out

I drive it back in. Stare through me,
say Kell please, my disguise nearly
cracks. The short blue pin poking

my skin is a silent witness. 

 

 

About the Author: Charles Kell is a PhD student at The University of Rhode Island and editor of The Ocean State Review. His poetry and fiction have appeared in The New Orleans Review, The Saint Ann’s Review, and elsewhere. He teaches in Rhode Island and Connecticut.