Look, I know what happened

Here.  It’s summer.  Remember,

How we freeze in winter?  Well,

In summer, it’s too hot.

She collapsed.  She hit her head.


She feels light headed, her vision

Drifting like a cloud.  Someone,

The teacher maybe, asks her

A question.  No, she says,

She’s fine.  No, no water,

She says.  Someone helps

Her to sit.  She collapses,

Hits her head.  No, she says,

I’m fine, don’t call my husband.


They come, the EMTs, ten

Or a dozen, no one counts

As they beehive around

The still form, taking vitals,

Setting up a stretcher.

Three fire engines wait

Outside the door.  They

Rush her to the hospital.


We all wonder what



C.J. Prince


Where Do You Hide Your Pleasure?

banana split



If you leave ice cream

In the freezer too long—

Your favorite—maybe chocolate

That makes your endorphins soar,

Or vanilla, so creamy

Your mouth has an orgasm,


But never strawberry,

Always artificial, never

Succulent like freshly picked,

Sun warmed juices dripping

From the corners of your mouth

Like your grandfather’s

Labyrinthian garden,




But real ice cream

Like rocky road, cookies and cream,

Cocoanut, caramel, pistachio, peanut butter

Creamsicle, sorbet, spumoni,

Thirty-one flavors plus

One hundred and one more


But not Neapolitan

Where you try to separate out

That strawberry strip,

And you fail as you let the chilled

Sterling silver spoon whip up

A generic moosh

To hide the faux strawberry

Assault, still


You can’t keep ice cream

Locked up for months

While you pretend to be

On a diet.

It crusts over like Antarctica,

Texture slivers, bitter, freezer

Burn, stale as a dumpster—

Just vanilla with hot fudge,

like love, you must consume it now,

hot and cold,

While it consumes you.

C.J Prince

copyright 2018