Pith Helmet


The pineapple’s teeth are sticking out.
Not the head! The body!
Who drops from above.
Whose loaves are off limits.
They will never get my loaf
I was going to eat
until the dentist. That villain!

The imperial marble crumbles, it winds
as in lusophone,
downriver, lazily dissolved by
appealing S’s coiling
across the plains, the savanna. A victrola
plays to no one. An umbrella
drink waits under an umbrella
a long time for a mouth.

Matt Broaddus is the author of the chapbook Two Bolts (Ugly Duckling Presse). His poetry has appeared in Fence, The Rumpus, and Pigeon Pages. He is Associate Poetry Editor at Okay Donkey Press and lives in Colorado.