Joseph Earl Thomas
Joseph Earl Thomas is a writer from Frankford whose work has appeared or is forthcoming in Philadelphia Stories, Gulf Coast, The Offing, and The Kenyon Review. He has an MFA in prose from The University of Notre Dame and studies English in the PhD program at the University of Pennsylvania. His memoir, Sink, won the 2020 Chautauqua Janus Prize and he has received fellowships from Fulbright, VONA, Tin House, and Bread Loaf. He’s writing the novel God Bless You, Otis Spunkmeyer, and a collection of stories: Leviathan Beach, among other oddities.
Kats
You can drop the kittens off in the driveway next to that bowl of boiling milk and ignore the screeching while they drink it. They’re just feeder kittens and Donald likes them warm, which brings me to the concept of price. This year alone feeder kittens have increased in cost by thirty three percent, which is a gross misappropriation of funds, a crime I suggest you locate anywhere on an axis between petty theft and grand larceny. In correspondence regarding my previous email(s) I am told the proceeds of the thirty three percent markup are primarily donated to charity, after which I asked which charity and requested you define the word “primarily” to which you replied Apple™ and Toys for Tots
4th of July
We bang pots and pans out front, burst
open the hearts of tiny animals, a gun in my
hand. He says to shoot, menace pulsing through
a boy’s spaghetti string arms, the bottle rockets &
roman candles we shot since sundown burned into
red bricks beneath us. Frankford is always lit
on the 4th, my aunt says as small mammals explode
by the millions & guns go off but no one ducks or
runs inside. Popop’s big forearm points his gun
to the sky in my hand so I learn through sweat
the meaning of power & direction. It is the closest
we’ll ever be as I lack the strength to turn on him
this night. Make sure you aim up, he says, at the stars we
can no longer see