2 Poems
CHAPPELL ROAN WORKS THE REGISTER OF THE STARBUCKS IN THE MAYO CLINIC
she asks me what I want:
a trenta matcha latte.
she writes ‘I love you’ on the cup
& fills it with glitter.
‘thank you,’ I say
‘take me away,’
my voice barely beyond a whisper.
so tired of the banal niceties
between strangers
in this hospital where everyone
is ‘fine.’ but I’m choking
on the smell of sick.
the room spins,
my headaches,
& my teeth clinch.
Chappell smiles
& tells me everything
is going to be okay.
‘do the words need changing?
turn it upside down.
short circuit; ask your body
what it means to be fine
& abandon all normal instructions.’
then she presses her lips to mine
& we exchange glitter spit.
CHANGE NOTHING & CONTINUE WITH IMMACULATE CONSISTENCY
I read once that the past does not only draw us back
into its loving embrace but there are some memories
that, if we entangle ourselves tightly enough
in them, they can take us into the future.
I think about that as I choke each night
on my Lamictal; A catapult flings me
into the future and my stomach spills onto the kitchen floor.
Can you tell me what I am supposed to do?
Bc, I love the feeling of choking on my meds and vomiting
up watered-down shitty boxed pinot noir onto my kitchen floor and cabinet.
& what do I do next but stand here and stare
at how the red wine is speckled with white flecks,
like stars lost in the dark?