September - Poem 30
My hands surprise me like a wolf / Cento composed by Kimberly Gibson-Tran
Mother / Yael Aldana
Not everything you say is going to be profound / Catherine Bai
music is just a kind of color
a strange pause
like driving in the rain
and passing under a bridge
sometimes the bridge is the best part
you see the chorus with fresh eyes
it’s emotional all over again
Things That are Worthy of Poetry / Danielle Boodoo Fortune
What is inside the leaf
bright silver white lining
even the fleshiest of living things
The certainty that one day
all of this will no longer be
The grocery list: eggs again, milk again
Food for the cat. An overdue bill
The house down the street
In expectant silence
Remedies for arthritis: mauby bark, moringa
Monkeys trying to find their way back
to the dwindling forest
Capybaras lost in parking lots
Bioluminescence startling itself around ankles
All contained within music and colour
All within the limits of the word
XXX / Kendra Brooks
“The consequence of desire” ?
Sounds like a species of wild flower:
A powdery, pulpy stingy bloom
Too lumpy to press inside a book
More of a miniscule scented jewell
Than a delicate, abundant beauty.
Good thing the bees know their duty.
Only sunlight cools the flame!
Know if you play, heartbreak
wins the game. Two steps forward
Then back to square one.
Lust is barrels of fun and
Attraction is a blast but when
It comes to the consequences
The love connection rarely lasts.
So travel light and pack for rain
When you board the love train.
Trust, desire has its consequences
And may change your destination.
Cafe Promenade / Kimberly Gibson-Tran
I’ve always wanted to rhyme love with chrysanthemums.
My goals are somewhat random—to find a use for the word
lagoon or chasm, stay away from the orgasmic hue of blue
some flowers flatten you with. “What is Magic
The Gathering?” a kid asks her parents. We chortle into
our coffee cups. I try not to overhear the eager explanation.
Let’s lose ourselves in steam, hot and brightening. This is
not your typical watering hole. There’s a whole landscape
on the upper part of the wall. The paint has layers of texture,
trees that feel dimensional. We’re ringed with Bob Ross Rocky
Mountains. Knobby humps of crust push up and nestle a forest.
How soon a room turns into something else entirely.
What even was this place before? Just under the forest is a door
that doesn’t go anywhere. Brass knocker, peaked eve, the bronze
face of a god or lion sleeping in the freeze. So easily.
It’s prom season—no—homecoming. A jingle of highschoolers
stop in, sporting the wildest flower-ribbon exhibits. Love,
mums, school spirit—what magic could even describe it?
A Prayer and a Pep Talk for My 62nd Birthday / Yvette Perry
It’s alright now, baby, game’s over
olly olly oxen free
come out, come out, wherever you are
you don’t have to pretend anymore
time for the grand finale, the big reveal
everyone’s in the parlor ready for you
to unmask whodunnit
dance like everybody can see you, and
they’re cheering enthusiastically
slide across home base: you may not be
safe, but no one really ever is
be you/do you, just say yes
I think I can, I think I can—
you thought you could and
you did
you got this, smooth sailing now,
everything’s blossoming roses
it’s like riding a bicycle—you never really forget
don’t call it a comeback
you’ve been here forever, ten toes
down and head to the sky
eyes to the heavens, hair blowing in the wind
feel the breeze on your face and the sun on your lips
feel what joy feels like
feel what unbothered and unbewildered feels like
feel what having all the fucks you could ever
want but choosing to give away nary a one feels like
keep all your marbles, have and eat your cake
it’s alright, now, baby, it’s all right this time
it’s time
it’s time
for you
Scholar / Amber Wei
Learn about me
when the books
no longer call you by your name
when identity is misspoken
because it is difficult to replace character with
emotional maturity
So heighten your gaze to the setting sun
lowering your sight
to the shoreline
where the distance
is seen light with
overbearing reflection
knowing that you were somehow
somewhere
the searing pain
light only knew as the moment
the distance showed that heat is
not an illusion
but rather the ominous
emanating of the day’s end
a cycle from which we have
not graduated,
but rather, look to a new day
