we dressed
in our best
false breasts
to impress
our two guests
the dudes pressed
their dude flesh
against
our false chests
we undressed
acquiesced
boy flesh
on boy flesh
in a dress
but undressed
who'd have guessed
such repressed
sex progressed
to the next
to the best
it was yes
it was best
left unquest
ioned correct
ed or checked
it was sex without quest
ion complex
as the mess
on the dress
would attest

---

Is There Something Like Murder for Trees

A fall of oaks, a strip
of birches, a sob of willow,
a strand of beeches. An
inferno of white ash. An
inferno of mountain ash.
A slap of palms, a clap
of date palms, a jig of
saw palmetto. Crop of
poplars, flash of sassafras,
pitch of pines. A rash
of strawberry trees. A pack of
sweet gums. A few of yew.

---

Gulf Coast Editor-in-Chief, Justin Jannise, recently sat down with D.A. Powell to discuss, among other subjects: poetic emphasis, the metaphorical world of Ilya Kaminsky, solemnity, greased pigs, and the above poem, "Is There Something Like Murder for Trees." Read their conversation on the Gulf Coast blog.