Dore Kiesselbach has placed or has work forthcoming in Boulevard, Carolina Quarterly, Poetry East, Cimarron Review, Field and like magazines. Past honors include a U.S. Dept. of Education Javits Fellowship in poetry and an NEH Younger Scholar Award.
The red lion ate the green lion causing quite a stir and considerable expense to the impresario whod billed the presentation of the unusually colored cats as a spectacle of comity despite difference. He took one of the unconsumed paws of the green lion, spots of green still showing through the matted blood, and touched it to places he remembered having stood while thinking that only a wonderful world would allow a man of his humble origins to possess both a red lion and a green lion.
Perhaps it was the lucky man grinning into his beer or the old friend suddenly asking for sex or the homeless man making sculptures from the contents of a shopping cart, maybe cheating on law school exams or the sparrow with a tip of gold, cigarette pack cellophanestring peeking from his beak, so sick he let you pick him up and pull it all the way out. Hed thought it was the worlds best worm. It was coiled deep inside. There was something in the way she looked up at you that morning-going-on-afternoon but it wasnt the one who watched you with her hands exquisitely full of what you still think of or the place with the strong wire or passengers on a flaming jet reaching for overhead bins no matter how elaborated or described, connected to things like but beyond themselves, though you thought otherwise once and for too long a time.