Cattywampus
I scratch my skin and catch
the trunk of a hair with my fingernail
that is thicker and darker than the others,
a hair which, when I try and pull it out,
wriggles and writhes like a crawler
in the night
Has anyone ever called the river
a ringworm when the air runs wetter
than normal, or has every proper
nickname been taken.
When a dock spider darkens the downy
lip of a boy in his first flush,
proud of having bitten a turkey’s heart
after the hunt, and hibiscus flowers
with jasmine musk wear out
the wicker scent of sin at dusk,
before trumpet vines and bats bearing
off the night’s needles get their snouts
turned white,
How can I call all this cattywampus
when there’s a horned tortoise,
a gator’s eye breaching the surface
to coach patience.
About the Author: Jeremy Nathan Marks lives in the Great Lakes Region of Canada where he works in adult education. His latest book is the short fiction collection, Captain’s Kismet (Alien Buddha Press, 2025). The second installment of Jeremy’s story cycle, “Mother 1 returns,” about women living under dictatorship will appear in The Medley in early 2026.
Image Credit: Johannes Frederik Engelbert ten Klooster Moeras (1922) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 