Frosty

you say when you are sick you get treats
I type while you talk and you say I bet
you’re writing about chickens and when

you look at the screen you say people call
anything a poem these days you need smooth
silk to coat a sore throat silence is borderline

death when next I need a doctor to peek inside
my nose with light I wonder what she’ll see
stuffed inside after I blow snot into dead trees

I too shall combat that system of escape
with corporate desires as in how much ice
cream we need our nuggets a false meat

equivalent to blood pressure levels crashing
waves with bongos of beating hearts that turn
harmonic within four walls of Wendy’s

(originally published in Magnolia Review, Summer 2020)

Stomach-Something

The growth inside you, you can only
guess exists– the strengthening

malignant allium a tumor blossomed
& when your stomach fails to digest

you leave your house in pain to meet
me at the bar & fuck, you needed a job

with benefits but I, too, lack insurance
& down downers at happy hour. You

tell me nothing solid settles
anymore. What you eat eats you

& I fear, soon, you will not eat.

(originally published in Agapanthus Collective, Spring 2021 – nominated for Best of the Net)

Coma

Bleeding nose.
Crooked smile.

I will run you under water.

Your carved, concrete face.

Clothes you did not wear: tulip.

Leave your red suitcase on the floor.
The fanny pack, too.

Soft whistles: ghostly silk of burnt ember.

I am the only one you never needed.

Saliva on your bottom lip.

A hole.
A pillow.

We sat warm on elongated bus rides.

Followed barren trees along the highway to places we won’t.

 

(originally published in The Magnolia Review, Summer 2018)