![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/02\/pinec-1024x683.jpg\")
<\/h1>\n<\/h1>\nby Anders Carlson-Wee<\/p>\n
My brother hits me hard with a stick
\nso I whip a choke-chain<\/p>\n
across his face. We’re playing
\na game called Dynamite<\/p>\n
where everything you throw
\nis a stick of dynamite,<\/p>\n
unless it’s pine. Pine sticks
\nare rifles and pinecones are grenades,<\/p>\n
but everything else is dynamite.
\nI run down the driveway<\/p>\n
and back behind the garage
\nwhere we keep the leopard frogs<\/p>\n
in buckets of water
\nwith logs and rock islands.<\/p>\n
When he comes around the corner
\nthe blood is pouring<\/p>\n
out of his nose and down his neck
\nand he has a hammer in his hand.<\/p>\n
I pick up his favorite frog
\nand say If you come any closer<\/p>\n
I’ll squeeze. He tells me I won’t.
\nHe starts coming closer.<\/p>\n
I say a hammer isn’t dynamite.
\nHe reminds me that everything is dynamite.<\/p>\n
Originally appeared in Ninth Letter<\/em> Anders Carlson-Wee is a 2015 NEA Creative Writing Fellow and the author of Dynamite, winner of the 2015 Frost Place Chapbook Prize. His work has appeared in Ploughshares, New England Review, AGNI, Poetry Daily, The Iowa Review, The Missouri Review, The Southern Review, Best New Poets<\/em>, The Best American Nonrequired Reading, and Narrative Magazine<\/em>, which featured him on its 30 below 30 list of young writers to watch. Winner of Ninth Letter\u2019s Poetry Award, Blue Mesa Review\u2019s Poetry Prize<\/em>, and New Delta Review\u2019s Editors\u2019 Choice Prize, he was runner-up for the 2016 Discovery\/Boston Review Poetry<\/em> Prize. With his brother Kai, he is coauthor of two chapbooks: Mercy Songs and Two-Headed Boy, winner of the 2016 Blair Prize. His work has been translated into Chinese. He lives in Minneapolis, where he serves as a McKnight Foundation Creative Writing Fellow.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Dynamite by Anders Carlson-Wee My brother hits me hard with a stick so I whip a choke-chain across his face. We’re playing a game called Dynamite where everything you throw is a stick of dynamite, unless it’s pine. Pine sticks are rifles and pinecones are grenades, but everything else is dynamite. I run down the…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3054,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[53],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3053","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t
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