Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 08/29/22

Full Corpse

‘96 Honda Civic found wrecked
wheels up, spinning
like feet pointing to the sky.
The grill torn loose,
kiss-wrapped around a maple.

You were dead, but not dead.
The hospital told us breathing
was your only sacrament.
There is no god in this church.

You fooled nobody.
Your mind was an effigy of dirt.
Doused with liquor, set with a cigarette.
It only smoldered.

Another funeral now.
We are trying not to laugh
in this crowdful of tears.
And the trying not to laugh
making it all the harder not to.

Maybe you will rise
and try not to laugh with us.
Belly burst, shoulders bouncing.
Full corpse.

©2022 Matthew Hutchins All rights reserved.

Matthew Hutchins

Matthew is a poet from Central Kentucky whose works have appeared in The Russel Creek Review, Anxious Poets Society, Pegasus, Sheila-Na-Gig, and The Poetry Cove Magazine. He occasionally posts journal entries to his Instagram @thebluegrasspoet and is currently enjoying reading the poems of Derrick C. Brown, Maggie Smith, and Brendan Constantine. Matthew lives in Carbondale, Illinois with his wife Haley and their two cats, Mishka and Kimchi.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 08/03/22

Death on a ship

She liked it better when superstition
kept her off ships – angering the sea gods
and all that. Sea gods were never her problem,
rather men clinging to life, so afraid of death
that any small gesture on her part – lack of wind,
seas unnavigable, fog, a sudden squall, scurvy,
rickets, weevils in the meal, a crack in the hull,
hurricane season in the Caribe – sent them to
throwing women overboard or carving statuesque
females with bared breasts to assuage the waves.

She knows a man can drown in the ocean
or in the bath or in his own bed. How silly
the efforts of survival, how trivial that squirming,
praying, begging need to put off what comes to all.
Were she more interested, she’d write all this
frivolity down in a self-help book – “silly things
not to do at the end.” Never liked being seasick
though, doesn’t miss the rhythm of waves,
the gulls’ cry, the endless monotony of water.

©2022 Douglas K Currier All rights reserved.

Douglas K Currier

Douglas K Currier holds an MFA in Poetry from the University of Pittsburgh and writes poetry in English and Spanish. He has published in several journals: The Café Review, Main Street Rag, The Comstock Review, and others, as well as in the anthologies: Onion River: Six Vermont Poets, Getting Old, Welcome to the Neighborhood, and Poemas Zafados in North and South America. He lives with his wife in Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 07/19/21

Solitary Death Notice

Alone!
I cried out.
Priest says, Go online, I’m not a dating site.
Mother says, Go online, I’m not a dating site.
Father says, Go online, I’m not a dating site.
Sister says, Go online, I’m not a dating site.
Brother says, Go online, I’m not a dating site.
Friend says, Go online, I’m not a dating site,
Community shouts, Go online, we’re not a dating site!
OK!
I Went online.
Found a dating site.
Met a killer.
Taste for blood.
Days later stink gave me away.
Pronounced dead in my home.

©2021 P. C. Moraitis All rights reserved.

P. C. Moraitis

P. C. Moraitis is a columnist and poet born in Detroit, Michigan. She has written theater, operatic and symphonic reviews for The Troy-Summerset Gazette, The Monitor, The Northwest Detroiter and The Dearborn Times Herald. After all, life has its share of comedy and drama.

Long before Brad Pitt made it stylish, she has been eating peanut butter on a spoon.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 07/05/21

Man, Woman, Birth, Death, Infinity

The ground is littered with used paper face masks. I want to shake this person and that person and tell them, “You can’t be lost in your own world all the time.” But, of course, I won’t. A purplish darkness creeps over the city. I stream a movie about an international crew of astronauts on a journey to the cosmic womb. The ship malfunctions. Their sanity frays. They slowly turn against one another. Something out there in space is acting like a hulking bouncer who won’t let them through. If they knew what I know, they would just chuckle. A month from now my daughter is having a daughter.

©2021 Howie Good All rights reserved.

Howie Good

Howie Good is the author of more than a dozen poetry collections, including Stick Figure Opera (Cajun Mutt Press), The Death Row Shuffle (Finishing Line Press), The Trouble with Being Born (Ethel Micro Press), and Gunmetal Sky (Thirty West Publishing).