July - Poem 24
Telemachus’ Letter / Clayre Benzadon
-inspired by Louis Glück
Dear father,
your twenty-year
absence has taught me
how to discern blood
from beggar. Even then,
one should always give
to the needy. So I gave you
my bow and we killed all
the aggressors. Here’s
where the story turns:
I end up marrying Circe, whom
you have several children with.
Mother ends up marrying Circe’s
son, Telegonus, and Telegonus
kills you with a stingray-spined
spear. It’s all very incestuous,
as these types of stories go.
My name means “far off battle”
while Telegonus means “far off off-
spring”. It all makes sense, really.
I fought so he could live.
I lived so I could beat fate.
Lost & Found / RJ Ingram
, . / , . , . / . / . / , . / [ ] / & & / . , / / . / , : , , . / , , & . / , & . / .
No reward
for completion
self portrait as childhood construction site / Kes Maro
i had a name like a pine branch bound
to the root of a berry bush. like a nail
through a tree. i grew around something
with a meaning between gift of god
and belief in the lord, neither of which
was under our roof. small houses
built from broken glass, lifted
grafts of moss and sticks in mud
in the shadow of a big house
broken into little dwellings.
i was convinced i was a changeling.
i collected acorn cap tables, stone
walk ways. in the unfinished basement,
on a pink plastic vanity, dirty
and color turning, offerings carefully
arranged. coins found in dirt
and my father’s dresser, yellow
cakes made from children’s book
recipes calling for at least twelve
eggs and honey, green glass with dull
edges. somewhere between playing
fairies and worshipping them. we picked
new names and i crawled out the window
and fell barefoot, level with the exposed
foundation. the sun rarely made it that far
so the dirt was always cold. or i just
remember it in April, still a little frozen
underneath that initial layer of mud.
Dark Matter / Azmia Ricchuito
When I was a
little girl
you told me
when I missed you
to look at the moon
because we'd both
be seeing
the same one.
The only stars
you see now
are at the bottom
of a bottle
empty, a void ---
you drank its
dark matter
the orange bottle
full of little round
moons
is this what they
meant when they
asked
if you've ever
danced with
the devil in
the pale moonlight?
I needed you to
show me that
it was possible
to escape
damnation
because you
were Superman
to me
but if even you
were swallowed
by the night
how am I supposed
to escape the darkness?
Galley Kitchen Prayer / Tammy Smith
What kind of God gives a girl
a mother who won't cook,
refuses to speak, won’t look
at her? God bless this family’s galley kitchen:
windowless, its narrow walls painted pearly
white like a bottom row of crooked
teeth no amount of brushing can straighten.
Ode to Circe / Daphne Stanford
Who can’t be blamed for the sins of Odysseus
Or, rather, his base, mortal impulses—same as
Any man. Who could blame him, really? It turns
Out, most of polite society. Typical: blame the
Sirens for wrecking ships, for merely singing
Aloud their ocean cantos, vibrato so powerful
They hypnotized men’s loins & brains & bodies
Armed with nothing but silver shields & armor—
Helmets covering skulls, breastplates shielding
Throats, chests, and lungs from spears, not
Knowing what lies beneath sand, this island.
