Gorilla At Dallas Zoo Raids Kitchen

My love could be this way—
simian desire expressed in cheap beer
and expensive cigarettes, the need to mark
territory, the wretched hangover.
I drag my knuckles along the kitchen floor.
Small hands grasp and tug
at mine—two daughters
hang on for a ride. Their weight
curls around my sluggish arms.
Daddy’s a gorilla. My belly’s
a great slope, my beard soft, ashy.
I’m no dominant male, more
like the old silverback—massive,
slow. Even my rages
are predictable, provoked
by dirty dishes, grocery lists. Of course,
there are worse animals.

*Tom Williams is a poetry editor for Ordinary Review. His poems have appeared in Blue Collar Review, Stray Dog, Virginia Adversaria, and Hayden's Ferry Review. Tom also has two chapbooks, faceOff and Bombing the House of God (All Nations Press).