Augustus Bagley, snaggletoothed and fat,
pants his way along the shingled beach
wishing he brought his hat;
the salty sweat, like bleach
burns in his eyes
but all he thinks of is the sting
between his thighs
where fabric scrapes on skin.
(There was supposed to be more of this poem, which would have made it a rather different thing. But time caught up with me and rhymes didn’t.)
2 replies on “napowrimo 2: Augustus Bagley”
I love, love the first line!
Yeah, that’s probably the best thing here.