Samuel Amadon
A Dirty Trick

I rub my walls down.  You rub your walls down.

The old stains come clean.

You’re sore, I know.

If it burns, like a throat cooked by hot wind,

drink your water.

Rub the stain, rub the stain. 

Are you tired of this mess, your mess?

I am.  Here, sit down, look

out this window: the fern-green grass

cool as pillows.

The outside sky is blue as paint, blue oil.

The oak tree is brown construction paper.

But look, now there’s tar in the grass.

Go a little closer and my sky

just licked your cheek.  

I’m sorry, but you’ll have to clean that

up too.  Now my stain is your stain.

You clean for me.

Found In Volume 34, No. 02
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  • Samuel Amadon
Samuel Amadon
About the Author

Samuel Amadon has received fellowships and scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writer's Conference, Columbia University's MFA program and the Summer Literary Seminars in St. Petersburg. His poems and reviews have appeared or will appear in American Letters & Commentary, Black Warrior Review, Borderlands, the Canary, Forklift, Ohio, Fourteen Hills, La Petite Zine, LIT, Massachusetts Review, mot juste, New England Review, No Tell Motel, Notre Dame Review, Octopus, Painted Bride Quarterly, Typo, Unpleasant Event Schedule, Verse, Washington Square, and the Western Humanities Review.