When Walruses Can’t Find Water
a poem exploring suppressed intuition
Published in
Oct 10, 2021
My sixth sense smells like the after-game
of a basketball team’s locker room,
suffused in Armani’s Acqua Di Gio.
Slick, polyester-nylon shorts left empty
as lank legs tore from bound waists
and scattered to commiserate beneath secret lovers.
