Palliations of Early Summer

by Adam Deutsch

This dog’s apprehension
to a faced down palm
is that of the owner. I mean

I’ve been a socialized pet
supplied treats for mistrusting
everyone else on a leash.
Abandoning toy gardening shovels,
I dug a hole with my pawing
tips interrupting space, naturally.
I got up and left for relief, or spoke
before you finished your own wag.

It’s just that scrapes and scars
on my feet have made me feral
again. I claw at what’s recently
packed down around your roots.
Unbleached toilet paper squares
get soaked with peroxide, dabbed
and held on my split up toes.

A dock’s floating concrete opened
me up after a sail. I put blood in the bay.

But my greatest misstep of the last few days
was letting that eggplant keep its skin.
I couldn’t cook through that tough,
so compensated with the use of my teeth.

I wanted it: a rich layer, a giant bruise
and toxins absorbed to protect a flesh,
an elegant Fabergé commissioned to heal.

Photo by K. Carlton Johnson (click to focus)


Adam Deutsch lives in San Diego, teaches college composition and writing, and has work recently or forthcoming in Arsenic Lobster, Thrush, Spinning Jenny, Ping Pong, and Typo. He is the publisher at Cooper Dillon Books, and has a chapbook from H_NGM_N Books called Carry On.