Poetry by Remi Recchia

On Leaving Planet Fitness at Two in the Morning Because It’s Late & You Can’t Have a
Drink Right Now
​
​
I ate a sponge last night & it was warm
like bullfrog brushing soap spuds
I never knew to freeze vodka
until my rapist taught me to

December sky empty as always
wife’s touches quiet & aching
we came last night & wept
pillow fell white underneath our quiet

I don’t have to say what violation
feels like: sharp sting of needlework
on down—but have you heard
a toad cry in winter?

Its spots livered, mouth puckering
into beak. Yellow underbelly
growing fuzz. Small lungs
breathing lint.

​

Bio: Remi Recchia is an MFA Candidate in Poetry at Bowling Green State University, where he serves as Assistant Poetry Editor for the Mid-American Review and teaches Creative Writing. His work has appeared in or will soon appear in the Pittsburgh Poetry Review, the Old Northwest Review, Blue River Review, Front Porch, Gravel, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, and Ground Fresh Thursday Press, among others.

---