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Pie face

Don’t go out tonight, 
my little man.
Oh no, don’t.
Especial, not behind the broken barn
by the woodpile
under the crooked elm.
I seen him there last night
when I was takin’ a pee.
Buddy kilt ‘im.
Cooked ‘im up in a pie.
It’s he’s ghost, I tell ye.
Got lips so horble.
He’s eyes drippin’ blood.
He grab me,
says “Yer not the one”
“be bringin’ me the younger fer a bite”
“Oi wait tomorrer and then the night”
“If ye don’t come, then yer the one”
Don’t go out tonight,
little man.
I love ye so.

Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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