By Throat or Scruff
I only want it kept
from my food, someone
to distance our dishes.
The air black vinyl
missing its needle. Fur
fish-oiled, nothing wild
caught about it. Bear or bare,
growl or strip, either way
standing still the ground
outruns itself, escaping
me states away.
Winters without snow
fool me to expect some
light back, butting against
my ribs in reds. Scalped
pelts we layer with up north
warm these floorboards,
wood the grain of hearts.
A firm hand, ears back.
Nudging the Swarm
Newspapers make the best
umbrellas, the rain erases
them. Fascinating philosophies
in my head-hunch over litter,
digging for shit
when there is already so much
on the surface. A lake
does its thing along the shore
officials warn against swimming,
and that’s fine. It still freezes
down south, shocking
my mums. The hearth becomes
its own moment, the catch
loosens none, no matter
how the smoke may defile
our fresh-kept cots; mimic
crawling out at dawn as my father
no matter how much
we’ve drank the night before.
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Patrick Paridee Samuel is the author of And Another Thing (Broken Sleep Books, 2025) and the chapbook A Suite of Heads (Ghost City Press, 2024). He received an MFA from Columbia College Chicago. His most recent work appears in Boudin, Seaford Review, and Villain Era. Originally from the Midwest, Patrick currently lives in Nashville where he works in university press publishing.
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A self-taught photographer, Vishaal has an eye for quiet, still moments and a deep appreciation for nature. His photography has appeared or is forthcoming in Juste Milieu Zine, Moiramor, Ink In Thirds, Moonlit Getaway, Quibble Lit, Union Spring Literary Review, Another Chicago Magazine, Gabby & Min’s Literary Review, Paper Dragon, 3Elements Review, Eleventh Hour Literary, and The Word’s Faire.
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