[poem w/ first line after the Ojibway] —Dennis Hinrichsen
—I discern the odor of death in front of my body & it is my own
mother crying // she has lost her tongue //
the pulsations // her cloud of thinking //
ripple like copper slag
—she speaks not to thee // ridge
& furrow //
she shudders exceedingly // I am not a son above
this field // I am a silent
film
being restored // lips moving but sprockets slipping
so the title cards are wrong // they are almost in Dutch
which no one speaks //
they are ahead of the narrative
—I watch her eyeballs
twitch in dream state //
clear
to ponds // my name
almost on her lips
but not // smell of sheets institutional // I can taste it // drift
of MSRA // me watching her
watching me watching
her decay is two projectors running // but with old
language & old tech
so when she
dies all I hear
is leader tape tail-whipping // like a feather // the lens’ blank eye
[marriage is the abattoir & a girlfriend just another set of lips to smoke with]
from [q / lear] / for my mother
—marriage is the abattoir & a girlfriend just another set of lips
to smoke with // see a movie with // trade Bond girl photos with
—that’s what
the négligée’s for
—husband in a funk // he can’t tell what he loves //
beer // clubs // or
the pretty
girls their daughters
bring home // smelling of cigarettes & chewing gum// drifting //
angular //
across the rec room // tank top // shredded cut-off //
leg &
leg // slender arm
—Q laughs & says to herself the hottest things a man can say to a
woman
in bed
—yes // her name // tight
& wet //
you // cock // need &
come //
but nothing happens //
sun sets // water runs // the television bores a hole in the wall
—girls dull inside their brilliance // only Q // on her feet // in the
kitchen // remains
alluring
*
—libido dies // so how cull
pleasure // libido
burns like a strand of gold in the brain // body
shocked out of dream // dead
sleep //
to ache & urge
—moon—hand // air
—hand
—in a room // alone
—what is it they say about the body
esteemed
*
—she lays a long time in the shape she’s worn between the covers //
sleeps fitfully // wakes
fitfully
—car lights burning windows // 4 AM // on a far wall
—ceiling curing // she
stirs // to a photograph of skin //
*
—then lens snap // the Fresnel // game-show-theme-song-gong //
that one actress in the comedy Q watches at 11:30
—the day pivoting // body
settling // each dull pain’s groove
*
—if fire cleanses how is it smell
remains // his ashes
in the ground
like a book // a fat book now nothing &
well // nothing
so she burns a photograph // burns a shirt // but if fluid leaks //
if carpet fiber //
she gives away the rings to melt // bag
of ties like a bag
of snakes //
row of suits // long abandoned // still leaking glad hands // runnels
of lint
& dander //
she will scour the rest // she will let it dry // she will
begin
*
again
—a body on fire
*
(there’s a rope she pulls if she falls at toilet // her
own smells appall her
but the scars are divine // stent in the heart // stitched
intestine //
she knows balance is a wire from here to there that // some day // will cut her
& yet she walks
—she’s hungry // she thinks broth // she will let it cool awhile before she tastes
it // the surface
coalescing in the bowl to mirror or pearl //
—spoon cold in her hand like a lover’s touch)
*
no one carries off
(This poem is from the chapbook [q / lear] from Green Linden Press.)
Dan Beachy-Quick
Simeon Berry
Lauren Camp
Danielle Beazer Dubrasky
Denise Duhamel
Robert Gibb
Michael Hettich
Dennis Hinrichsen
Richard Jones
Andrew Joron
Fady Joudah
Frannie Lindsay
Randall Mann
Philip Metres
Matthew Murrey
Robin Myers
Craig Santos Perez
Carl Phillips
Boyer Rickel
Zach Savich
Eloise Schultz
James Scruton
Maureen Seaton
Rebecca Seiferle
G.C. Waldrep
Andy Young