Fall 2019, Volume 27

Poetry by Robin Ray

I Was a Teenage Microbe

I sit across from you. You don’t realize
I’m the face on your carton of milk, the
pooch on wanted posters stapled across
town, the modified Honda Civic of a

disabled vet pilfered from a hospital
garage as he sat waiting. Oblivious. Soul

lurking. Impalpable mist. I twirl stars 
through my fingers, drink identities like 

ginger ale, explode with language the 
colors of hot air balloons. Mirrors sketch 

me visible. Rain clouds obey my thirst.
Absolute anomaly to you. Oh, I’m the

Vermeer snatched from the museum in
Boston by a thief too bombed on Chenin
blanc to care. Recognize me now?




BIO: Robin Ray, formerly of Trinidad & Tobago, resides in Port Townsend, WA. Educated in English Composition at Iowa State University, his works have appeared at Spark, Red Fez, Scarlet Leaf Review, Neologism Poetry Journal, Flash Fiction World, Aphelion, and elsewhere.