Wash Ancestors
Take
a shower. Walk past away. Watch it get sucked down the drain. Clean out all the
debris between words. Smile at someone, anyone. Make love to a loved one. Make
love to anyone. How do you do that? Wait for the sun to move so you can sit in
the shade. Wait for your breath to make song. Wait or Walk. Choices. Meet a
friend at the library. Meet a stranger in a book. Before you go to bed, pardon
yourself. Greet ancestors. Wash their bones.
Walking Theory for Brothers
I know everything about you.
The dirt in the creases of your hand.
The bad kidney. The liver turning you yellow. All the ball games you never played. The children without your name resting on
their tongues. Reach in and take the
unsaid words from my mouth, feel the heft of them. I stray.
Walls. I get stuck. Errant steps. Go on.
Walk. I feel the sweat between
thoughts, the loss between syllables.
The private hurt between us. All
the stars gone missing. Like both our
children. What theory did you think I
was? I stray. I get stuck. I walk.
Go on. Show them. Go on.
Walk.
Test for Fractures
Write
a poem about nature.
But,
I’m in prison.
Split
stones, split hairs, split a lip.
Spit
words into syllables or, -
what was it you really spilt?
Change
diapers for an infant
or
for a dying mother.
Fight
entropy.
Knit
together threads of errors.
Test
every word for fissures.
Test
every nerve for fission.
Test every emotion for fusion.
Everything’s
broken.
Garrett Phelan is the author of the poetry collection Outlaw Odes (Antrim House Books
2015) and micro-chapbooks Unfixed Marks and Standing where I am (Origami Poem
Project 2014 and 2016). His poems have appeared in a variety of publications
including Potomac Review, Connecticut River Review, Word Riot, Off the Coast,
decomP, Unbroken Journal, and Leaping Clear. He is a Pushcart Prize nominee.