The Poetry Marathon

“This is how she found us/ the past draped about us like a cloak”

Selkie Weaning Young (Redux) by Diana Khoi

I crawl out of my skin,

out of a past heavy

on my bones.

And this is how she found me:

wet and blind and filled to

the brim in melancholy.

My job is gone. Just

upped and moved away.

“We’ve decided to go

in a different direction.”

It’s a Friday, way after 5pm.

I get drunk as I strip my cubicle

down to its grey blahness. Say

“see ya” to the dying diffenbachia in

the lobby and take the steps

down.

The sky opes its mouth.

Clouds burp out.

I smell raspberries. I taste

soot. I hear

silence. I touch

your face. I see

persimmons ripening.

I taste melancholy. Bernie Sanders

flies over LA. If I stand on my toes

I can just barely touch his shoe.

My hand avoids

your face. Dogs surround the tree,

sniffing at its bark. The tractor

trailer sails through the miasma.

No way is he gonna be president.

The sky opens its mouth.

Clouds burp out.

I smell raspberries but

my hand avoids your face.

I see persimmons ripening

and the tractor trailer sails through the miasma.

I hear silence and I touch your face

Bernie Sanders flies over Los Angeles and

if I stand on my toes I can just touch his shoe.

I taste soot and see dogs surrounding the tree,

sniffing at its bark.

… from Bakersfield, CA. Going for the whole 24 this time.