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Todd B. Maxfield
At the End of My
Secret Ramadan
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This
bathtub
shaped like a pickle.
It's green and bumpy.
When
my back aches
just enough, I pour
ghosts kept in paint-
cans into the tub. This
tub, full to the pickle
brim
with thick gelatinous
specters, glows
like a Christmas
bulb on Eed. In the
bathroom, window
fogged over, I sweat people
from my forehead; it stings
my eyes. Aurora
Borealis pickle tints white
tile and glimmers my
sweat as my small
hand flushes the toilet
repeatedly.
My back turns to mud.
ing.
My ass...
don't even ask about my ass.
I recall that Ames is
named after Willie
Ames
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