ABOUT

CONTENTS

EDITORIAL

ARCHIVE

LAGNIAPPE

MAST

SUBMISSIONS

 
TWO POEMS
by Sara Pennington

POSSESSION, A STRANGE AFFAIR

We meet in derelict basements,
kitchen nooks, in boiler-rooms
and on grease-racks. In these abandoned places
we look to find abandonment again.
But from behind our masks
of dark chiaroscuro, we never see
that to our possessions and to each other --
as through a fish's mouth --
we are always hooked by sharp apostrophe.

MIRRORS, HEADBOARD

I began to forget the coincidence: the marriage to your wife with my name on my
birthday: I found all your spices in matching jars: in your house I switched paprika
for chili powder: your sugar for salt: unplugged the refrigerator, ceiling fan: you
always needed that noise: I heard myself breathing in your house: I hid in the cuffs
of your khaki pants, coffee cups, the zippered pillowcase that still smells the same:
I drew lines on your photographs: over your eyes, your hands, your crotch: I slid
jello into the toes of your wingtips: found costume jewelry and k-y jelly in your
wife's underwear drawer: I pasted lines of poems on your tv, your windows,
mirrors, headboard: I lay on your bed: stuffed lines of poems between my teeth like
gauze: under my eyelids: in my ears: you always needed that noise: I became the
coincidence: you opened the door: I heard myself breathing in your house