He would listen
to “Blame It On the Tetons”
nineteen years later,
the slow-drip sink on this whole
time, tongues stretched beneath,
the steel from the faucet
out of factory, faultless, or
without furnace in sight,
without fire, basic oxygen,
before the impurities
were impurities, the iron ore
still in the mountains.
Luke Janicki’s work has appeared in Trampset, Ghost City Press, The Milk House, Funicular Magazine, and Blood+Honey.