Of course we knew what was at stake.
We all had that pill between our teeth
the gelatin cap
would not burst
no matter how hard we bit down
clenching and folded,
straining but it would not yield,
would not offer us the quick and easy death
we thought we deserved.
Instead we stand before the world
wringing our hands and pissing on
all the fires that burn
taking out California
and the south
the way the racists
took out Pennsylvania,
the way the map flipped that night
redder and redder
like blood spilled across this land
leaked from between our teeth
as we try and bite down
break this pill
and finally sleep.
Did you know? they ask us
messages arriving day in and day out
little notes in little bottles tossed into the ocean
littering our shores,
Did you know? they ask us.
Of course we knew
we joked about it.
We wrote opinion pieces about
gold lame draped across the White House floor,
we laughed at the nicknames
the plane hangers
the ridiculous little hat
each lie fed to us
swallowed
and absorbed
the damage and pain
lit up like torches
glowing inside us
a rocket ship
catapulting us
over the moon
past the stars
dizzy in all that breathless glory
not knowing what was going to happen
until
we landed here
with a hard jolt
now
on the wrong side of history.
Ally Malinenko is the author of the poetry books The Wanting Bone, How To Be An American and Better Luck Next Year as well as the novel This Is Sarah.
He made it possible. He was formerly a fabulist.
He was faceless, but he was ugly, graceless
and he made everything disappear.
aligning
as fingers
deftly dance
on checkered
smooth plastic
disco stage
Adam’s countenance: beer cask-heavy
his eyes: glazed shallots
his smile: a split itself
Now take away the need
for moisture and the deteriorating
qualities of autumn. The veins
and stems will release as well.
Take away the release. Take
away the seasons.
When Taylor Swift was at the gym in Japan
she watched the muscled back of a man
moving up and down a heavy machine
made by other heavy machines for men.
of spontaneous human combustion,
of pictures with the Cherry Hill Mall Santa,
of a stapler after getting my wrist stuck to my teacher’s green bulletin board,
and on the tv
a drag queen
sharing her recipe
for sun tea
asks us if we want to
watch her take a break
and we take a break
Honeywell closed their Minnesota plant quietly
and the addition of warning stickers on album covers
would save the children along with D.A.R.E., Nancy
and Tipper directing the conversation, for some reason.
I read, I traveled, I, Lina, thief’s daughter, a discarded toy by the campfire
at night, my planets – burned by sparks,
burned by coincidences, in my eyelashes – stalagmites of ashes.
Because Phil Collins is for fools and old ladies.
Because the ocean’s too wide a body of water
for a commando to cross alone. Because gentlemen
never kiss and tell, and soldiers never share
their kill count. Because you teach the meaning
of words like ‘amorous’ and ‘varnish’ and ‘leave.’