A little gold canoe rows across the Mississippi brown floor. I call it by its name: "Cockroach!" Grip the toe end of my shoe, slap and slam it, tear a paper towel, shovel the hammered body from the planks. Nights like this, I lie awake and wonder what am I allowed to murder (within the laws of reason) before sleep takes me, before I drown in a river of gold canoes.
From The Cut Worm by Douglas Korb. Copyright © 2008 by Douglas Korb. Published by Bright Hill Press. Used by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.