April Fool
by Steve Klepetar


Sun sails powder blue spring sky,
boat of millions of years. Up close
your red face glares. You ask me if

I think I know the truth, if I presume
omniscience, you demand to know
who the hell I think I am. Your
breath hot in my face, your glasses
steamed, your voice oily and ugly
and hard. Once I was a reptile, coiled

ready to strike at ankle or fist shoved
too close to the rock where I sunned
myself. Too ready to bite, I broke a
fang or two. But I've evolved at least
to mammal state and I'm resolved (this
just may be your lucky day) to let you live.






Copyright © 2024 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.