Thursday, January 3, 2013

Two Poems by Chris Butler


When she blew me

the last kiss,

I tried to

pocket and save it

for an eternal later,

but I didn’t know

I was also carrying

around a hole,

so it’s long lost

with all of my

loose change.

Money Shot

I can no longer

take pleasure

in pornography,

for fear

that the girl,

whose love

I once

suffered over,

might be the star

of the money shot.
Chris Butler is a twentysomething nobody shouting from the Quiet Corner of Connecticut.

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