Fat Edwards
by Nick Bucciarelli

Runestone, volume 11

at sunrise, a man of yeast
and substance lies
a draft of oil lamping mines
dream romp-stomp sea salt
feel it in the eyes

once a young gun
taffy tough, called dice dies
big muscle, scruff, pyrite
one tattoo, a switchblade
on stitches, no cries
no cries, no cries

low over, real low
dab at his dome
fist of dough, no fight
knife’s now dull and wide

a man of candle fat, drip
round down his cheek
a cheek of good earth
and size