2 Poems by Joey Whitton

Sometimes

I feel I have many voices within
me,
like a Sibyl—

No.
Not that one.
The other Sybil.


The Worst Thing

I watched you unleash the burden you’d carried,
and though I swept my leg aside,
it crushed my swollen, cold foot,
grotesquely numb, a ghost on the floor—
as I launched a half-hearted strike
that grazed the beast and stoked its rage,
tearing through the kitchen like a wounded animal,
smashing the coffee maker with a deafening crash,
scattering chili cans like buckshot,
the sharp scent of spilled spices thick in the air
while it hunted a near-empty bottle
of three-cheese Italian dressing I’d tossed,
then you said the worst thing:
“I hope my cancer comes back.”


Bionote

Joey Whitton is a poet with a BA from the University of South Alabama. Born in Salem, Massachusetts, and raised in San Diego, he has lived in Mobile, Alabama, for the past thirty years with his brother and their cats, Ethan, Mio, and Honeydew. A devoted fan of punk rock—especially hardcore—Joey’s poetry has appeared in Sky Island Journal and Flipside Magazine, and is forthcoming in Misfit Magazine and BlazeVOX Journal. These poems mark his first appearance in Poetry Pacific.