Tyler Brewington




Is that a good carrot? I asked the dog, of course
it was, it’s always a good carrot, I love dogs
as much as I imagine sharing a life with men
I might ask them not to have a whole order of wings
and an entree too. It hurts when they’re not just me
in better pants. I have lobbed soft questions, have you
challenged a man enough or too much, I’ll never know
why the peregrine doesn’t just wake up
earlier while the little prey-birds are out, when
people get a break from me. I sleep
quite near the edge of a gulch, there are often men
and dogs smelling me together, I’m bit on the face
or my hand, doesn’t matter, I just want to touch you
and everything else, bright new drops of blood
on the sidewalk let me know there’s an animal
out there saving me for last. 




Mind your manners always, but also be a couple
who makes out in the bathroom, escapes at least once
before dessert, a single horny organism sneaking onto the patio  
where blue plums glow and draw the raccoons into night’s safe
fabric, I was enfolded, a man in reflective outerwear
held me so hard I could feel the power drowsing
in his chest, gym chest, thudding chest I’d like to have
a dream on, later, but now there’s a party
hurting the old floor, and odd of you to bring up the lawn
which, yes, I guess I agree, should die.  






Tyler Brewington is the author of Dear Stray Volcano (alice blue, 2013) &, with Kelly Schirmann, Boyfriend Mountain (Poor Claudia, 2014). He is from Boise, Idaho, & @bylertrewington in all of the places.