Poem-A-Day #356 : Stuffed

Stuffed

i
The bear has a birthday hat on
is sitting calmly - pink chair - is
staring at the ceiling

ii
The eyes are cataract - chipped
glass - they are windows in
a church bombed in a war

iii
Pray at the pew of it - hard - unfeeling
the sort of colors streaming on your face
that make everything seem alive

iv
And the hat came from a night concert
the man who I have obsessed over
placing it on my head - no reason given

v
Pink like grapefruit
faded to bubblegum on your shoe
Grandmother's chair

vi
Addiction to history - ashes on skin
bear that traveled in boxes and bags
- it's too much honestly

vii
Let's pretend that we had kissed
that the chair had been reupholstered
that the fruit had been bruised

Poem-A-Day #71 : Drunk Poem

Drunk Poem

The dog is slobbering again - and the night is cold
it's May why is the night cold

I am an adult I feel like I'm 16 - I have never felt older

I recount the story of going to the concert
of the mosh pit and the elbows and how I retreated to the balcony

And there are nods - someone says 'but your hair is purple'
and there are more nods

And I remember the article about purple-haired poets
ow they were an example of the pseudo-liberal
not really woke white person - and - I - am unsure -

And the cat drags the baby bunny into the living room
and does not devour it

It fucks with the thing - until it is saved or dead
either way the night will repeat - because martinis