Hot Metal Bridge

Current Issue : Number Twenty-Five

Don’t Tip-Toe Past the Witch’s Pool


Crash, like your children are going to,

into the deep end of the blue

lake impossible

dead leaf strewn, pulsing

flotillas of organic spume—

only your elbows’ pickled compass

cresting, as toes plow

shivery border water—did you know

it can taste good?  Tell the others in passing

I found it along the bewooded route

as you, breathing big, wonder

below the brief umbrella of your arm’s own arc

what——breath in——could——breath out——have given you

the final push?  The suppleness of your birthday suit.

Finding what never wanted solving

by jumping the hoary fence—

A Florida native, Mandy Malloy is a poet and graphic designer currently living in Brooklyn, New York.