Morning Football Meeting

Alex Hoffman-Ellis

disfigured fingers

wrapped around the paper cup
he brings to his lips. kissing the rim

he spits

and as my stomach backflips,
and eardrums recoil at the sound
like the wringing
of a wet wash cloth
brown saliva quickly trickles down
the waxy inside.

the peppermint scent

forever corrupted
by the substance
stuffed in between his gums and lip
grabs ahold of my nostrils
like a septum piercing
as my imagination
the scent of mint from my sinus
with a dental probe.

deep, omniscient voice
flashing projector screen
play out like white noise in the background
have fuckin fun.
you’ve been playing this game since you were little kids.

i didn’t start playing until i was 17.

but opening my mouth
would mean grabbing another whiff
of the
minty mucus

in the paper cup,
an errant limb away from

across my desk

a simple clean-up
whose only stain left behind
would be the

dark brown

in my shoulders
every time
i returned here.


7 Deadly Sins - Gluttony

Alex Hoffman-Ellis

and just think

as i slump over

pinned against the wall

          cement sloppily caked
          between brick

                    like icing
                    on the chocolate cake
                    we shared after dinner

and the headlights
of the matte black charger

          the driver’s face obscured
          by an airbag and blood-spatter

          on the outter windshield –

what if i didn’t have a sweet tooth?