The Works of David Spicer
David Spicer has, in pursuit of the word, worked as paper boy, dishwasher, bottle loader, record warehouser, carpet roll dragger, burger flopper, ditch digger, weather observer, furniture mover, temporary flunky, gas pumper, bookseller, tutor, 11th and 12th grader babysitter, magazine and book editor and publisher, typesetter, medical journal proofreader, librarian’s assistant, carney barker, chocolate twister, and artist’s model.
He has published in slicks, non-slicks, and online journals such as American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, Reed Magazine, The Curly Mind, Slim Volume, Yellow Chair Review, Jersey Devil Press, and others.
All Poems © David Spicer
Token of Affection
The two-word note from the countess
left me without a shadow or silhouette:
a hatchet to the wolf in my heart’s
forest fire, it sealed off diamonds I might
have mined. I may as well have been Moses
without the ark or a walrus wearing
a petroleum dress. After I scoured
and swept the trashcan’s junk for clues
to my deception, I thought of guzzling
a gallon of gin in her limousine. I almost
spilled my dreams to the librarian
and the hairdresser: how she promised me
a bed with her downstairs, where fresh
blackberries and peaches rested
on the marble countertop. How the universe
hushed after our lovemaking. Yes, she stumbled
on my plan to vanish—how?—but I wasn’t crushed:
the gold bobby pin clipped to the envelope
reminded me she was real as the two words.