Saturday, July 21, 2018

Kids. by Ryan Quinn Flanagan



He asked me if I had kids
and I told him they frowned upon that
in prison, and for good reason.

Even just pictures on your computer,
I warned him to be careful.

Kids of your own, he said
with much exasperation.

That’s incest,
I said.

I don’t think we should talk
to each other anymore.





Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, The Rye Whiskey Review, Outlaw Poetry Network, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Dope Fiend Daily and In Between Hangovers.

4 comments:

  1. Nice! Sensitive topic, but eloquently delivered, great poem.

    ReplyDelete
  2. under
    the bleachers don't look up sensitive topic very funny very good

    ReplyDelete
  3. under
    the bleachers don't look up sensitive topic very funny very good

    ReplyDelete
  4. Hey Ryan I read your write under where? I mean just cuz I'm in my underwear doesn't I'm in bed.

    ReplyDelete

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