portion of the artwork for Donora Hillard's poem

Champ
Donora Hillard

Give me a composition theorist

who wants to drip habanero-laced

honey across my torso. That or

a hirsute director of torture porn

who calls me Champ. You know,

someone who could get the wet

to come walking out of the river.

Who will tell the children to learn

disappointment early and often.


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 29 | Summer 2010