“[nothing happened that was worthy of poetry]” +1 by Rachel Custer

Categories: ISSUE 03: Edgar

[nothing happened that was worthy
of poetry]

It’s been so long

you said

in
a voice like a jar full of stones

 

shaking

 

I
rolled a cigarette

 

children
keep

asking
about my scars

 

car crash mauled by a bear fell
through a window

 

Did
it with a straight razor

 

you
were taken aback

 

we
ran one after the other toward

a
gas station

 

ended
up locked

 

fucked
me for thirty-eight minutes

 

the
exact length

of
history’s shortest war

O Typekey Divider

 

A Hunger (She Said)
1.

In
a room somewhere, in the heat-spent night,

you
stitch together a soul (shoddy

in
a cold sea gray) and light

 

a
cigarette with a cigarette.

 

Wrong:
in a room somewhere,

you
are looking in a mirror

at
the fingernail-moon

 

scars
on your breast.

 

2.

Tin
cup half-filled with unidentified liquid

 

Proud
beside the bone china

 

Somebody’s
daybreak, the water

You
calmed

 

Only
one of us is coming out

 

3.

You
are more than a receptacle
Structure
of a Proof

 

Given: neuroscience

filtered

 

through a skull-rattle construct,

five-penny nails;

 

light focused along the synaptic
gaps

 

in a way, schizophrenic

like the sun,

 

crystalline against inanimate things

 

his eyes

 

the skeletal socket

of her moan

Poems by Rachel Custer