Tag: dead

Drying out with the ones I hate | Eddy Jordan

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Image: Brian Wangenheim

Drying out with ones I hate

BY EDDY JORDAN



Fished a moth presumably
Miller out the coffee pot presumably
dead.

Again, no
talent for judging life.

Everything learning to walk is Bambi except for people.

I hate moths and hate them more when they’re dying in front of me.
So stunting. So honestly dying. The gall.

drank the coffee
of course i drank the coffee
boringly. To myself.
I wouldn’t write the poem if I didn’t drink
The Mothra Jus
Wouldn’t submit the poem if I didn’t drink
The Mothra Jus
And there’s flavor in being misunderstood
Pollinators.
So, yes, down.

Burned my feet on the fire escape
Where it dried out
in a bad way
something awful uncomfortably.

Then life again
more than caffeinated
only so poisoned

More places to moth.
coffee pots tonight

Eddy Jordan is an actor and writer from Longmont. His poems have been featured in GASHER Journal, Punk Drunk Press, Heavy Feather Review, Thirteen Myna birds, and Timber Journal.

Little Ginger | Roger Patulny

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Image: Don Hassan

Little Ginger

Four new kittens
periscope heads
from the old gym bag pile
molding in my cupboard awhile

I disentangle blind and slimy mice-sized
pouches, bags of skin with
wet ears flattened back on scalps
their mother mews confused
desperate to return them
to the dark and cozy canvass den

Three are destined to find homes
but the little ginger is a Viking
who weeks old turns to fighting
clawing at the built-in mirrors
stalking up the avocado tree
a ruler and a hunter
preying past the front door
till I find him one day by the roadside
stilled but dignified

the neighbor’s children
ignorant of Viking custom
dig a backyard grave
say little prayers, teary, terse
for a cross of sticks in bone dry earth

Inspired by: “Dead cat poem,” by Ann Alexander

Roger Patulny is a Sydney based academic specialising in sociological research on emotions and loneliness. He is a published creative writer and poet, and is the Chief Editor for Authora Australis. He has published fiction and poetry in numerous outlets including The Suburban Review, Cordite, Poets Corner InDaily, Dwell Time, The Rye Whisky Review, the Mark Literary Review, and Silver Birch Press. Twitter – @rpatulny

Excerpts and links to Roger’s published creative works can be found here.

self-portrait as bird flying into window -wanda deglane

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dead bird

and when you pull over, you’re still screaming,
hands held shaking in front of you like the skin

of them must not be real. my body hurled into
your windshield like mid-autumn hailstorm. my body

leaves streaks of blood and feathers and blindsided
desecration. my body the railroad tracks and

the trainwreck. the punching bag and the percussion
instrument. the pigeon queen, at once both sickness

and softness. you’re stumbling out of your vehicle,
sobs chiming from your throat. you see from

far away a mash of gray and white and red and bone.
tell yourself you can look at me up close. the carnage,

and the tenderness vomited from its mouth. there is
a strange grief inside you and you don’t know how

to free it from your ribs. there was a grief inside me,
and it spills an ocean on this asphalt.

Wanda Deglane is a night-blooming desert flower from Arizona. She is the daughter of Peruvian immigrants and attends Arizona State University. Her poetry has been published or forthcoming from Rust + Moth, Glass Poetry, Drunk Monkeys, and Yes Poetry, among other lovely places. Wanda is the author of Rainlily (2018), Lady Saturn (Rhythm & Bones, 2019), Venus in Bloom (Porkbelly Press, 2019), and Bittersweet (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2019).

Photo: Chris Slupski