July - Poem 28
Anatomy of an Antonym / Clayre Benzadon
Inside the antonym,
schnapps, is an opposite lie.
Confessions are like fireworks
waiting inside its plastic bag,
heavy and combustible
at any moment.
I breathed grief and got
gummy. I wound synonyms
all over my shoulders: apple brandy.
Today, absence tasted like orange
juice, and I spilled it over
me in public, at the park,
tried inserting a straw
at its base; it splashed
in my face instead,
gesture of silent laughter.
Translate the myth
of loneliness. Say
the park is just
a stage: back,
private, an exposure,
confessional lie.
I don’t think you know this about me / RJ Ingram
My grandfather forgot my name after he asked you if you were a boy or a girl / I like cute things so there are always little bunnies & rodents & pigeons & foxkittens in my parties I’m a predictable son of a gun / Seriously / My dad was a gun / Sorry is a gun / He’s still alive today & locked in a safe with my adoption papers / I prefer blue what can I say? / Who doesn’t love a cute squirrel turtle / I don’t think you know this about me but I’m actually a nice guy / I used to get along with everyone / And you killed my rat on a boat just before it sank / And they blamed all of it on me / So no I will not let you follow me all the way to the top/ Game over.
The Context Between Waking Up & Falling Asleep / MeraBaird Kuar
Dinner in bed, lunch in bed, breakfast in passing
Baby in bed, kindergartener in bed, husband in passing
Drool in bed, sweat in bed, piss in bed, dream in passion
Isosceles triangle, perfect spiral, fingers angled, que paso?
Cramped hips, arthritic hands, eyes weighted, embattled
Wall shadows, sun strips, familiar dimension, uninvited
Kitten meows, baby babbling, household appliance
squirrel fashion, overgrown garden, gunshots?
the moans of sleep, water, cars, sirens?
surveillance / Kes Maro
i have only ever seen
a wolf in a zoo. she
was smaller than i thought
she would be, more like coyote
who yells at night
in the spongey yard. little
happens in this white lead
paint town, but there are cameras
everywhere. i keep painting
these wolves with big blank eyes
and calling them a container.
i trace shadow shapes
across every person’s face.
i start seeing the wolf’s shadow
in old vines and within an underpass
outside tydavnet, a town with one church,
one bar, a few cow fields. and in the edges
of the wetlands of a land more recently extracted,
with a few churches, a few cow fields,
a franchised coffee shop where i cannot go
outside as myself. i paint the wolf biting
off her own tongue, suspended
between leaping and getting away and lying
unnaturally, dying, with her eyes big and blank.
It started with a phone / Azmia Ricchuito
Something that should be
a lifeline;
but what happens when
the people who are
supposed to protect you
are tired from carrying
their own grievances
and you are
just a burden?
A phone call
and suddenly
a strange man
snatches you
from your home
and you live in a box
with the other
misfit toys;
discarded like yesterday’s
news
but you will always remember it
just like it was yesterday
for all your todays and tomorrows
your brain remembers,
it plays your worst hits
on repeat in your head
and your body keeps
the score;
You: 0.
Emptiness: 1.
and you sit in the shower
crying and repeating
I’ll.
never.
go.
back.
You will wonder
if the emptiness
won because
atoms make up
everything;
empty space —
absence is
your only
companion.
You will understand
the evolution of
Edward Nashton;
how easy it is to
mistake vengeance
for rescue;
how heroes
live long enough
to become villains
one betrayal
at a time.
someday you’ll be
the lifeline on the
other end of
the phone.
Competitive Natures / Tammy Smith
Ignore the temptation to compete
with writers who win awards,
who have—or don’t have—
kids, kittens, corporate jobs,
fully stocked eat-in kitchens,
who dabble in iambic pentameter,
schooled in the poetics
of finer forms.
Ignore those folks, particularly writers
well-versed in politics, who can pontificate
about the perils of pollution,
fixate poetically
on domestic and foreign policy.
Someone more deeply rooted
in cleverness has already exposed
how the branches of government
entangle human nature.
Believe me,
it only gets worse.
The more you compete,
the fiercer your inner child
will fist-fight
other people’s flexes.
First-place medals adorn the chests
of those who held their breath
and puffed themselves up
long enough to stand proudest,
if not tallest,
in a long row of fledglings.
Second Monday / Daphne Stanford
Tiwesdæg is an origin word for
The day of the week that inspired
A band fronted by Aimee Mann
In the eighties, when everyone
Sprayed Aqua Net in their hair &
Wore head to toe spandex & fish-
Nets & leg warmers & The Bangles
Were on MTV & wouldn’t it be
Nice if it were still the eighties &
They still interviewed rock stars
With those foam microphone
Windscreens? But it’s not the
Eighties & Flashdance isn’t on
VHS, Beta, or cable TV tonight
So, absent a blank cassette tape,
I guess I’ll make myself a playlist
With sides A & B because I can.
