Poetry: Great Wolf Lodge By Joe Couture

Great Wolf Lodge

 

Dad's drinking light beer

imagining the teenage waitress

naked, inverted, legs split, 

descending the plastic totem pole.

 

Mom's drowning poolside

with a glass of boxed Chianti,

debating Marvel movies

with another NPC.

 

The kids have screaming

contests. One swims

too soon after chicken strips.

Forced wine break, for Mummy.

 

Hubby savours the quiet,

updates the famjam's Instagram,

dreams about sucking 

the end of his Benelli.

Joe Couture is a writer living in rural Nova Scotia. His work has appeared in ExPat Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, Mad Swirl, and elsewhere. If you want to connect with him, try here: @rjcouture.bsky.social