by Remi Recchia Alexander Jawfox What would you say now, my first, knowing that I’m bigger? That my forearms’ muscles have muscles? That while I used to trim sparingly, I now cut nothing except the golden follicles crowning my head like an ostrich his plumes, blooming deep black and handsome cream. Soon I will resemble my whiskered father. I try his ties on in the mirror and always resist the noose. My eyes have laid perfect eggs in praise of the future. They tremble under