Walrus

He already had a body
Two in fact
But he wanted a different one
Needed a younger one
Of his own
A confused doe
One of those you’re
Supposed to kiss
Lips closed
In affection
Not open-mouthed
Like a rabid walrus
Whiskers cutting scars
Flippers bruising breastbones
Tail flapping obscene
The heft of all that blubber
Pinning down a life
Crushing it like a
Bulb underfoot
Pieces shooting everywhere

Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State, an editor at the online magazine Literary Orphans, and the author of I’m Not Supposed to Be Here and Neither Are You, out now from Unknown Press. You can also find him at http://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.

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