Devon Neal




As I emerged into the cool of the October evening,
I saw them there, on the road beneath the tree’s shade—
thirty to forty red shrimps, curled and glittering.
Each seemed coated in the pimpled skin of breading,
as if a high-end waiter on his worst day
finally flung his carefully-balanced platter
out the window at the wayward comment of a rich patron.
Or perhaps the bravest of these seafood souls
decided he’d had enough of the hellish deep-fryer
and, with unrivaled words of inspiration,
led his followers into the cool shadow of afternoon.
As I left I wondered what it would be like
if these bright shrimps grew on trees—
how would it affect the food industry, the fishermen?
And would I still be able to see them
as the pale sun glittered at the end of the day,
red and scattering with a rattle
across the cool pavement?





Devon Neal (he/him) is a Kentucky-based poet whose work has appeared in many publications, including HAD, Stanchion, Stone Circle Review, Livina Press, and The Storms, and has been nominated for Best of the Net. He currently lives in Bardstown, KY with his wife and three children.