Alexa Mal - Four Poems
YOU ARE A DISCONCERTING AMOUNT
While I did feel the sad feels so, I did carry bracken
ferns to make her a nice bed.
O miracle glass corona, my blue, blue,
blue, blue star,
your ghosts are not the dead,
but all your lives unrealized.
I CAN HEAR IN YOUR VOICE YOU’RE PURE OF HEART
disinfect the day with baby carrots
& obituaries patient dog earning
his fine consolations
s u c h
such a challenge
to do anything upright to
wash before returning
to work I got word from
back home of a cool
breeze & was swimming got
work at the department
of sanitation but
LOVE IN THE TIME OF MONSANTO
I took the Torso of Apollo and threw it
in the empty fridge. I re-retried the door,
still no good snacks.
What if we just lay down
in the fountain and try to catch
filthy pennies in our mouths. The backs
of my teeth feel fuzzy. But I promise
they’re Just-Brushed. Give me your
finger tips. You can hear the fresh
clean misery squeal.
If it’s a bad time, I could come back
later. I’ll bring something to eat. Fried spicy
cajun-style Pork Bung, extra Spiky
blood Flavor. (F for Fraunhofer,
like so many glasseaters of that era, died
of heavy metal vapor poison [\m/],
aged thirty nine.) You must change
your. Lithium. Iron. I’ll heat up a bowl
of my world-renowned malice
word chowder. Dosed with extra
chemtrails. I’m no longer working
for the government. Quit my government
job. These jigsaws make me buzz
all over. And if I had Rilke money,
I’d still want to. Too much hassle.
And these days, it’s all the same.
It must have been scary
seeing his boss buried in rubble
like that. Though what a relief,
though. To be a free man
To be a free lunch. What relief.
THE GARBAGE & THE FLOWERS
alone at the