Two POems
The Centrist’s face pulls apart as 2 halves of a grilled cheese sandwich
One string cheese lip tells me how utterly, terribly
sorry he is that I have been sexually
harassed under his staid and
stentorian watch,
while the other melts into Brett Kavanaugh’s
pink and rubbery maw:
a greased well for the rapist cum
Judge with the exact same fuckin haircut.
“Don’t you understand my awful
predicament?” he cries,
“I, who must constantly weigh
both halves of my face?”
a kitchen in the cobwebs
Fried-eyed and ready for general consumption,
Arachne oozed off the pan and into desire
for a spiral preposition
or a spring equinox sizzling
over, uneasy.
She eyed the yolk running for the hills and followed its raw and sunny
trail to the hospital cafeteria where nurses nursed their clipboards
and asked us to talk about our feelings.
Biting her time, she sipped tea
and admired the two women across
the table, who have been there for as long as anyone can remember
and can only say so much
in their private language of held hands and glances.
J Cope
J is a writer and translator based in Chicago. She is currently working on a full-length manuscript of poems & bedtime stories. She also hosts a monthly community writing workshop/informal dinner party at the PO Box Collective in Rogers Park.
Twitter: @malvu_maldit