Ann Rutledge


Miscellany Editor

By J. Tyler Campbell

See, if I had a timemachine
you is where I would go;
skip backwards dizzy and out of place,
buy clothes to fit the time,
show up full of fury, shock of hair,
eyes like a leopard, mouth burning with
syllables uncommon.

No doubt, I would steal you quick.

No doubt, no lank lord, no
American expansion dandy
could wrest my hands off of your tender
thoughts, volcano waist.

And if we got a minute we could
slide- beat quick back to
this day and age…

Oh my dear,
my death flipped doll,
the sights would be like a million fires singeing
hot and close with the knowledge that
now this land has gotten so wonderfully old;
that your beaus now crumble soft in ink and dirt.

With that, I would crush you.

Terrify you near me in the thought
that you could never go back without serious mental limp,
you could never unsee, never unknow.

And then you bind your love by fear
hard to my hip.
Then we live together in this present horror,