ONE: THE MAN WITH THE THICK LONG DREADS
the man with the thick long dreads
in a sportcoat holds the end of a plastic
tube attached to a balloon
his coat rustles loudly on the platform
this is how i know he is anxious
or excited too it is five thirty
the balloon has text on it
gotta wait til he turns back around
Happy 1st Birthday
he might be cold the L is late
a disturbance on the track
these kinds of things happen around the holidays
a jumper someone else says
the train i just saw did have a sleigh car
and a plastic santa
or it could say 2nd
now all the trains are delayed
the man pulls out his cell phone
switches the balloon to the other hand
grabs his glove with his teeth
moves his fingers on the screen
holds the phone in front of his face
like he’s never seen it before
or doesn’t recognize the silence
before the numbers dial in
he takes the glove from his mouth
and wipes the spit onto his coat
there’s nothing i could do
some kind of delay
i’m sorry i’ll see you soon
the phone disappears and the glove
he pulls on deep into his joints
laces his fingers pushing the acrylic
into bubbles he swivels behind a windblock
some kind of support
in a sportcoat holds the end of a plastic
tube attached to a balloon
his coat rustles loudly on the platform
this is how i know he is anxious
or excited too it is five thirty
the balloon has text on it
gotta wait til he turns back around
Happy 1st Birthday
he might be cold the L is late
a disturbance on the track
these kinds of things happen around the holidays
a jumper someone else says
the train i just saw did have a sleigh car
and a plastic santa
or it could say 2nd
now all the trains are delayed
the man pulls out his cell phone
switches the balloon to the other hand
grabs his glove with his teeth
moves his fingers on the screen
holds the phone in front of his face
like he’s never seen it before
or doesn’t recognize the silence
before the numbers dial in
he takes the glove from his mouth
and wipes the spit onto his coat
there’s nothing i could do
some kind of delay
i’m sorry i’ll see you soon
the phone disappears and the glove
he pulls on deep into his joints
laces his fingers pushing the acrylic
into bubbles he swivels behind a windblock
some kind of support
TWO: DEAR LOVE WATCH OUT FOR VINEGAR
|
dear love watch out for vinegar / on the tabletop dosing every microbe / i couldn’t name but want to rid / this day of / kinship and sorrow which here fall / under the same longwinded entry in my pocket dictionary / love, why i’m not home to meet you after work to jester lie / like a fact used in the wrong context is how lucky / conversations go between you and i let’s keep this a sloppy secret and wonder that one phrase becomes several / the only way to move my arms a slanted circling / how to mix handshakes and bear hugs in the same flask over an open flame in a kitchen laboratory / why i didn’t want to mention grief this month or now / sorry to even bring it up like the ad space from my dad’s estate sale / that has never ended / in the classified section / renewed why i haven’t tried to find the title for the Oldsmobile or register it / why i left that and so much else to my brother when we talk the braided sound / shackles loosely an insistent present above / the song of evaporation / from our dehydrating mouths to the acid on the round table i’m guessing you’ve thought this too / next to the rings of paper curdled into permanent coasters rubbling onto the surface a July memory
THREE: BLOODLETTING GO A WAYS AWAYBloodletting go a ways away
past your tremble and my hollow asking you ever go noodlin? You know you got to find the deepest hole barrel your hand in and writhe your fingers like tapeworms or my lung wings you know this before the flathead’s whiskers wait for it to know the current and gasp around your arm oh there don’t forget to check with a branch for snapping turtles and snakes before you go letting them entrust you with their corsage lips sandpaper is how you will guess the flathead has gills for you to grab and you must know two things about noodlin a fifty pound flathead can drown you wear tight clothing |
Header art by T. Guzzio.
CONNECT WITH MICHAEL:
michael e woods used to live with a family of raccoons in Missouri. He edits the Columbia Poetry Review and teaches at Columbia College Chicago. He received the Merrill Moore Prize for Poetry in 2015 from Vanderbilt University. Recent work appears in The Rising Phoenix Review, The New Territory, and Eclectica Magazine. Forthcoming works can be seen soon in Yes, Poetry, Solidago Journal, Truthdig, and The Nassau Review. Find him online @michaelewoods.
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