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Brad Hatfield (email)


About the Poet:

Brad Hatfield was born in Yakima, Washington.  He graduated from the University of Washington. Recent publications appear in the WPA’s Whispers & Shouts, Switched On Gutenberg; the Orange Room Review; Sein Und Werden, Best Poem, Words-Myth;  Origami Condom, The Blue Fog Journal, Decanto Magazine, and Margie Review.  Brad lives with his companion and their son Grayson in Mill Creek, WA.



Summer Day, Three Visitors


I dizzy, tracking the dragonfly.  It ricochets

hedge to grass to table, a green metallic shard

with glints of blue abandon.  I know your name,

hunter, you tarragon glimmer-bit:  River Jewel Wing.


The honeybee lights on the rim of my ice tea

hairy, vibrant, drawn by sweet herbal evaporates,

his every enzyme primed for nectar

like young loins, buzzing in frustration. 


I didn’t even know you were there, mosquito.

Your saliva numbs the injection, rebuffs the platelets.

Fine, graze in the brush of my forearm, get your fill

before I slap you silly and leave you to the dragonfly.



Eight-Inch Main Drain


Covert suction

locks her hip

in hyena jaws

to the blue pool floor.


Boys and girls

swim overhead

like cherubs

meeting mid-air

white raisin





her hair fans out

in chlorine dull

peahen plumage.


She sees

little brother

left this morning

by the Japanese holly,

childish sinew,

tummy pooched,

eyes scrunched,

he cradles the

yellow sprinkler,

takes the

icy needles

smack in his face.


Two red bikes


against the rail

of the warm brown porch.



His Delights Were Dolphin-Like


No wonder your beak splits in perpetual grin

And you chatter in childlike delirium--

So much is justified by your flashing fins--

Sinuous torpedo of the world’s aquarium!


Some say you somersault over the tide

To locate fish under petrels flight, 

Or to call your brothers to your side,

Or simply to dislodge sea parasites.


But what reason is required besides joy?

For joy you sprint cross the boat’s rough wake;

Romp in seaweed, scrap like Spartan boys;

Make love belly to belly, till your belly aches.


Acrobat at birth, kissing cousin of whales!

Graceful, thriving genetic mutation,

Aboriginal surfer of tumbling swells.

Peerless upshot of adaptation!


I hold you in special esteem, sweet friend,

You’ll never trade your schoolyard pranks

For noble truths; never confess to somber men

Imagined sins, or whisper Ich habe angst.


Unfallen mammal in a field of foam

Nature's exemplar of savoir-faire;

No exile, you, but ever at home

In the ungated garden of sea and air.