Gift
Blake Butler

She blew the tuba. Blew my name. Under her tongue I found the gift. The gift smelled like our Christmas. I knew that because of church. I smell me instead of her.
No knowledge never nattered in the nails breaking the backroom, where was she and I would screw.
God damn that goddamn hair. Goddamn tuba. HRUOOO. HRUOOO. Mother called me Hank.
Hank was my Dad's name. My Dad who browned the floor. Who stripped and stained and washed and waxed and sold the floor under our feet. I stayed Ted until Hank split and then I became the new Hank.
My bedroom was the backyard. When she'd come over, then we'd screw, right out there where the dogs could see us, then she play that goddamn horn. That goddamn horn.
HRUOOHRUOO. Even in my sleep soon. Long after she is gone.

1996 © 2006