try to name
there are people i miss who i don’t really remember / maybe
it’s my energy missing their
energy /
i’m not embarrassed to think this / materialism
makes no sense to me /
the whole world disappears all the time and
i’m left with whatever is
inside my head /
nothing decomposes and it
all means so intensely /
forgive me for believing in
what i can’t and won’t
try to name /
nervous
i blush in unexpected situations like / when a stranger says hi when
i’m out walking the dog / i know the formula: say hi back / smile /
wave / nod / give something of myself away / but it’s like in
school when you study hard for a test and you memorize
the whole damn textbook but / you’re still nervous
all the same /
cutting out
are you there / i can’t hear you / it sounds like you’re underwater / yes /
honey / can you hear me / this phone cuts out sometimes / maybe i’ll
call you back / maybe i’ll hang up and take a walk / then we’ll try
this again / we’ll suffer through the silence and come out
the other side with so much to say about the mess we
made / people have done this before but not us /
what should we believe in next / are you
there / honey / i’m going to
hang up now /
for marie howe
the poet is explaining from her podium what a video store was
to a young student in the front row of the auditorium / she
says they were little stores / smaller than this room / with
rows and rows of VHS tapes that people spent hours
combing through / the tapes could be rented for
a day or two before they had to be returned and
it was important to rewind the tapes before
returning them / the student says so it’s
like netflix in boxes / the poet combs
through her hair with her hand and
says sure / it’s clear she’s grieving
something and it’s also clear
the student is working at
the idea of a video store
in his head and wanting
to walk into one now /
to browse the shelves
and touch the tapes /
to be in a place that
existed once but
not now /
Janelle Cordero is an interdisciplinary artist and educator living in the seventh most hipster city in the U.S. Both her writing and her paintings are sparse narratives that emphasize the disconnected nature of the human condition. Her writing has been published in dozens of literary journals, including Harpur Palate and The Louisville Review, while her paintings have been featured in venues throughout the Pacific Northwest. Her debut poetry collection, Two Cups of Tomatoes, was published in 2015, and her chapbook with Black Sand Press is forthcoming in 2018. Janelle’s artistic priority is to collaborate with other creators to push for social and political change. Stay connected with Janelle’s work at www.janellecordero.com.