Robert Vaughan

Divested

I had grown used to it–
boils, acne, the blizzard that shuts us in,
devouring
bird whistles. I slushed
Comet down orifice.
Scrubbed court clean.

You think you can hurt me?

Does the sun in her electric
white undress?
Keep away.
It’s enough to wake up
for now.
Room in this avalanche
to maneuver,
just barely.


Robert Vaughan teaches retreats and workshops in hybrid writing, poetry, fiction at locations like Red Oak Writing, Synergia Ranch, Mabel Dodge Luhan House, The Clearing and Cedar Valley. He leads roundtables in Milwaukee, WI. He was a finalist for the Gertrude Stein Award for Fiction (2013, 2014). He was the head judge for the Bath International Flash Fiction Awards, 2016. His short fiction was selected for Best Small Fictions 2016 and 2019 (Queen’s Ferry Press). He is the Editor in Chief at Bending Genres Journal.

Next poem

Previous poem