by Derek Tellier
Just had a daughter, the bill
ran twenty thousand dollars,
two nights in the hospital.
Insurance hesitated. I cussed
at the phone. They forked,
but we still owe. If my balls
weren’t in a vice…
we’d have the next one
at home. This health
care monster licks
open wounds. Its
mixed-fraction,
math-forked tongue
laps blood off
the fat globules,
but its manners
are impeccable.
Derek Tellier’s work has appeared in Ascent Aspirations, Pindeldyboz.com, The Pedestal Magazine.com, Poetry Motel, Blue Lit and Small Spiral Notebook.com. He holds a Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing from Minnesota State University, Mankato. He teaches English in the Twin Cities and is finishing a poetry collection.
