Everything

I’m wearing a lavender gownand holding up the waist ofmy Carhartts with both handslike I’m in a potato sack race — we have to stop meeting like this  The same nurse as last timegreets the scrambled output  of my EKG reading with a too-long silence: OddI’ve never seen it do this before  The gap between thunder and […]

We are all initial-ly named what our families can say.Glanced and category theorized, my morphismsurvives to asterism, even as dopped cabochon.To rock the dome is a beautiful breakage,if it happens. Cleave define or indefinite-ly or to infinite stroked to part-icle spark—when -ever it turnsout my grain can do all that and unbag. A Brazilian born […]

Here I am wonderingIf my poetry will make meA goddamn Master of Fine ArtsAnd you with your talking blues. Sometimes entire days pass and one thinks aboutJust money. It’s toxic.Aren’t weekends forDrinking beer and lemonadeAnd getting fucked?Count your blessingsFor they comeEvery few weeks.In betweenDream-crawl orWrite an ars poetica:You know the form so well. Now that […]

I’ve always tried to proceed with caution. The few things we owned I made sure not to break. How selfish could a poor brown boy be? Let alone three? Grassless backyards and baseballs there we were. Unminding any manner we learned in a country that molded & scolded us. America’s past time to pass time, […]

The boy and I make nicebecause there’s too much sufferingand send messages through the flight patternsof migratory birdsand when his answers cawat my window I open it upand cut cloacas in my breaststo let thefat outand I tell him “I’ll get you your surgery somedayI promise”and he says “black feathers blue feathers south.” Noelle McManus […]

(a poem made from my 2006 myspace blog post) Suzy is a writer from Arizona. She lives in Seattle. Her work is published in Rejection Letters, South Dakota Review, Variant Lit, Monkeybicycle, and others. She’s a recent graduate of Lindenwood University’s MFA program. She’s on Twitter @suzyeynon

I have forgotten how to sing.At CVS, I impulse buy two bottlesof cherry syrup. Ten percent off,I tell my mother, who shrieksMy god, how sick are you,by which she meanshow dead have you become.The only thing I rememberfrom biology is how to checkif something is alive.I should poke this poem withthe Big Dipper’s handleand watch […]