• Broadkill Review

Two poems by Charlie Brice


Backyard Wisdom—1955


For Bill Richards


Some things never change

You still grow a beard by putting

seeds in your mouth


You can still dig a hole to China

If you keep at it and aren’t afraid

of walking upside down once you get there


It’s still true that your heart must be

In your stomach since that’s what moves

up and down when you breathe


Your parents know everything

You would rather freeze to death

than burn to death


You’ll grow up to be president some day

Jesus and Santa Claus know everything you do

you will never ever die






Leftovers

After the scavengers are gone,

the white skull laughs.

David Baker


Everyone has to eat.

The California Condor almost went extinct.

Wasn’t there enough death to go around?

That last morsel lodged inside


an empty eye-socket is delectable—

reminiscent of brown bits scraped

out of a frying pan while plating

porkchops in rosemary vinegar reduction.


It’s always what’s last that delights.

After the hurrahs and laments

someone makes coffee

sits down,


waits for sunrise,

takes a sip



Charlie Brice is the author of Flashcuts Out of Chaos (2016), Mnemosyne’s Hand (2018), and An Accident of Blood (2019), all from WordTech Editions. His poetry has been nominated for the Best of Net Anthology and twice for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in The Atlanta Review, The Main Street Rag, Chiron Review, Permafrost, I-70 Review, The Paterson Literary Review, and elsewhere.

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