Posts for June 5, 2024 (page 4)

Registration photo of Sophie Watson for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Processing/ Snapshots

Your mouth burning, choking, plant water, whole bottle, indescribable taste, dissolve, tongue peeling/ your left hand holding the lock/ brown constellations running up the door frame, flecking off, dried blood/ shut eyes pressing in, black hole, tunneling, checkered carpet’s squares rippling/ look down/ window open, strangers, invasion, room devolving into clutter, wrecked/ blue and red dancing, haze/  look up/ we have to go, now, we have to go right now/ the neighborhood watching, silent presenceless crowd, endless sea of men, ushered, followed, shut in/ white interior, no seat belt, no gurney, sit up, lean in, write the poem, hear your mothers heartbeat ringing, savor/

get out, contemplate the running lines of traffic, a current, a riptide, flight risk, you do not do it/ sit down, wheeled in/ people in the halls, rows of filled beds, sicker, less sick, lead in, watercolor polka dot wallpaper/ questionnaires, hurry, tucked in bed, lines hooked up, start to feel it/ doctors with glasses doubled, two heads, vomit, yellow, pail/ thoughts catching and lagging, time warp/ you are in third person/ try to write the poem, contemplate the yellow walls/ unhook, bathroom, reflection above the sink, pupils black holes, purple blossoming under eyes/ heartbeat rocketing, door ajar, switched rooms, sitter/ you talk to stay alive through the night/ your mother is asleep on a bench, feet in a wooden rocking chair/ hand soothing your forehead, listener/ you are awake for three days/

transferred down, begging for sleep, pacing, terror/ you walk with a friend, she rambles about the devil tempting her, she talks about family, you do not understand what she says, you like her voice/ sleep/ wake, introduce yourself to the group/ you promise you are not like this normally, but you currently do not feel real/ the yellow plastic chairs melt/ white noise, radio chatter, your mother’s voice, talk show host/ neon orange ear plugs/ talk to a friend, talk about living, want it, neon nails, bracelets/ dinning room, friend swallows the hard boiled eggs in your salad/ friend writes you several poems, you write one back/ you are real again/ talk to a chaplain, talk about living, talk about dying/ locked hall/ choke on vanilla, taste the peeling mouth, that first burn/ peach shake, better, gums in throat/ I will swallow a whole packet of salad dressing if I have to/ you are terrified to shower so you shower in your clothes/ blood draws daily, bruises flowering in technicolor at the crease of your inner elbow/ kilograms to pounds/ interviews, interrogation, eat, now/ slam the phone/ friends crying/ repeat/ you will go to Connecticut/ bite him, aura tattoo/ empty room/ what a pervert/ room gutted, nothing left, read the poems/ hide the thin markers/ reasonless vertigo, something about the pills perhaps, lighting severs your brain/ vomit in a paper bag, it gets on the floor, no one cleans it, sock feet/

transferred North/ you are comforted by a friend, you are here again/ paint the white-hot glow of sundown on the buildings, mini canvas/ oil pastels, a friends face/ arm with IV lines, watercolor and pen/ friend brings eclipse cookies, she watches it from the courtyard, you do not see it from your room/

transferred West/ North Woods Law, ID, Oxygen, turn off the TV, do not turn it back on/ sitters, endless, pace, the room is 7 steps, count to 3000, walk the halls with a friend, pitcher of water, 10 oz cups,  60 oz total/ you are not allowed to pace/ puff paint/ they do not force feed you/ shower, beg for hot water, braid hair, hair clumps run up the shower walls, medicine cups of shampoo, Nair, roll on perfume, lip stain/ lobsters in space/ scopolamine patch/ diamond painting/ painting a clay bowl with tempera, looks like shit/ French sitter, tote bag/ a friend fights for you, treats you human/ you will go to Connecticut/ runner/ black out, holding the underside of the bed, you have insane grip strength, it happens again/

get discharged, lie, home for one day/ pack, in secret, disassembled watch, your grandma makes grocery trips/ dye hair Ion 4IR, review mirror’s reflection, startled at your own face, feel real/ hotels, bad breakfast, fancy suite, flavor pods/ arrive/ unpack, questioning, introductions/ school/ groups/ panic, pace the track, 350 steps, 5 laps/ panic, you will not go home/ slap her/ walk/ chain link fence, hands slick, slide under/ woods, blue fog, river/ embankment, fight, lay down, cold mud, numb feet/ it is an icy spring/ voices echo, cold mud, bog, bridge, German Shepherd whining/ familiar, white interior, begging, no gurney, seatbelt, talk about coffee, she’s so thin, soaking wet/

wheeled in, braless, pants too big, lay down, voices from the other room/ I speak French, crayon hieroglyphics scramble up the walls/ your mother comes/ a friend imparts wise words, her crystal earrings swing/ tick bag, frozen/ pack the car, midnight, start driving, hotel/ churros puffs/ steal the cookies/ hot tea, go home/ gutted, you are left with shards and splinters in your skull/ untangle/ haunted


Registration photo of Patrick Johnson for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Quiet Lunch

it had been raining 
most of the day
still, we pressure-washed
in the silver light
under thick clouds 
this old farmhouse
he refused to dismantle
because he had reverence
for the permanence 
in which the old-timers built

he bought me lunch
we sat in metal folding chairs
in his clean and ordered barn
rain on the metal roof
a noise attached 
to such black memories
I keep to myself
we ate simple burgers
after he prayed

if I were younger
I would mistake him
for that yearned for 
father figure
but he’s just an old man
who charges me rent


Category
Poem

Sneak Attack

                             Sneak Attack

                             You never
                              saw it coming,

                              did you
                              Caitlin?

                              
                             End of poem,
                             beginning of

                             old story.


Registration photo of K.A for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

V

V your body is practically in the bedrock already 
                you’re ten feet above it looking
                into it’s face
& you can’t recognize the
decay pearling pretty in its smile
V your looking at yourself & don’t
know it, can’t know it
V you’re forgetting who birthed you
V you’re dying & only you can
prevent it,
                     V why do you want to die?


Registration photo of Pam Campbell for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

American Sentence XXVIII

The poet inks letters, slashes long and lean, actinic debriefing.


Registration photo of Ashley N. Russell for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Your Invite

Tonight

I do not want to write

I want to stand up and fight

I want to take on this perilous plight

I want to force others to see the light

I want to scream truth with all my might

I want to shift from all bark to all bite

I want to make a difference if only slight

I want to keep going until the sinners are contrite

Because only then will a new dream take flight

I am not content waiting on a white knight

As if restoring justice is just an oversight

We must be honest and forthright

And together this history we will rewrite


Registration photo of Victoria Woolf Bailey for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

In the Woods

Green lichens like trees, familiar color
of leaves, kin on some level.

Names carved in bark, trunk sports trendy tattoos,
man’s stupidity displayed.

Logs rot, survivors ignore fallen comrades,
hungry for all they give.


Category
Poem

Yoke

A mass of raindrops and flying insects arose,

More interested in sweat than the fruits of labor,
Not that I’ve been much different lately.
In gentle awe of callouses and motion,
We treat the yoke as chariot,
and trudge on.

Registration photo of Samar Jade for the LexPoMo 2024 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Performance

No amount of performance
of gender
will ever be 
enough
for the idle gaze
of the wretched 
moral binary