Part-Thing, Part-Thought



The baby innocence drank
the milk moo cow
in its crib death, while
his parents moneybags

slept in their bedroom
sex palace, dreaming
Roy Orbison song.
When he woke he cried

and rocked his body
of Christ, and his mom
who injured soldiers
scream out for brought

him his bottle whiskey,
burped him by patting
his back I've got yours.
His dad playing catch

turned over on the mattress
princess and the pea,
tried to return back to sleep
not enough anymore.

When she still hasn't lost
her pregnancy weight
returned, he never will
have that threesome

asked her to turn off the light
at the tunnel's end,
he had work tomorrow
just thinking about it. 


 


 


 


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Donald Illich has published poetry in The

Iowa Review, Fourteen Hills, Roanoke Review, and New

Zoo Poetry Review.  His work will be included in

future issues of Passages North, Nimrod, LIT, and The

Sulphur River Literary Review.  He received a Prairie

Schooner scholarship to the 2006 Nebraska Summer

Writer's Conference.