A GOLDEN PAST AS SEEN THROUGH THE HOLE OF A DONUT
At midnight, Wendell dives into the dumpster
behind the Third Street Bakery. The trick
to smelling OK after is to go in naked
and avoid the custard. Before the recession,
Wendell got his donuts from inside the bakery
like everybody else. Once he even stayed in the studio
and sent his assistant out on a donut run.
That was when he composed
his golden song, the one for the dog food commercial
that earned him his wealth. It played
as a mermaid dove for cans, the beat synced
to the swaying of her unearthly breasts.
Wendell misses being woken at midnight,
his arm between his sleeping girlfriend’s teeth.
He was happiest when gnawed on by a beast.
But that was just a trick of the light.
SARAH B. PUSCHMANN was raised in upstate New York and has taught English in South Korea, Argentina, Sweden, and Germany, where she now resides. She holds an MFA from the University of Florida. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in THAT Literary Review, Appleseeds, and the Smithsonian Insider.