- Last Call
Girl in clear, coal hot squares of disco, the sudden pangs and minnowed light moving across, sloped
as candle wax and allowing such octaves into the small of her thrum, her sternum, a Doppler
resonance, pleading its maps. Listen. I am girl. Here and here. Place me
in an eyeless cornfield, not noticing the screen door thrown wide
and night coming on like horses. [End Page 1060]
Nicole T. Dutton, a resident of Boston, has published in Can We Have Our Ball Back?, 580 Split, Gathering Ground, Folio: A Literary Journal, and the Indiana Review. This Cave Canem Fellow received an MFA from Brown University.