Jennifer Cary Diers

let's imagine together

COMING SOON

No really. Pretty soon. In the meantime, here is some poetry:

 


WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT REGARDING THE SUN


do you love to eat the sun


does it taste

like eggs soft

boiled

like olive

oil like

the town you grew up in

on the coast of maine

where sun is a cele

bration

like lobster

like stars

starfish swimming and feast

ing on oysters

arms wrapped to crack

the creak

of dockline and age

rustling sails of ships which

dream of sail

ing

under that cracked

open sun


do you love that

                    that sun?


PORTS

 

this is my starboard destination:

 

front porch wreathed in

cigarette fog

and Janis Joplin on the tape deck

 

slender hands on

slender neck

of Bud Light bottles

or glass of wine

 

tinted

like slap residue

 

or on New Year’s,

when the illegal

fireworks scare

our cat to death,

 

sometimes

from a valley in Douro

rounded glass of stiffer stuff

 

 

can you drink it

in

with the maps your head

can’t wrap around?


SITTING IN THE LIVING ROOM WITH
MY RABBIT DRINKING IN THE DARK

 

They don’t travel together anymore. Not to bed anyway. Which seems to matter most it seems. And she pretends to care about hurting his feelings which is a lie which doesn’t fool anyone. Anymore. He pretends it doesn’t hurt and that he doesn’t know what he deserves. Only that might not be a lie. If it were like this all the time in the world then I am not sure it is for me. The world. Our rabbit says it isn’t so, but she can only eat what I feed her. When I lay down beside you it makes me think things. That we should leap away, off the world like cows do. I tell you and you think I’m lovely and strange but I worry about it all through the night. You roll over to heat the south end of the bed. I sit up and wonder: To where do you travel now?


WHAT THEY DON'T TELL YOU ABOUT THIS PLACE


       god knows—

 

i ate myself

to death.

 

 

         the toilet ate

me too…

 

 

       i fed him sandwiches

 

 

 

 

                 and teeth.


BACKTRACK

 

grammar school mispronunciations

anchored in side

ways glances

that never came

over for dinner despite

asking if milk is

leche’s brand

name brand shoes two weeks

too old for inevitable inversions of

god and dog that

barks and barks and won’t come 

in spanish everything seems more clear

cut out at age seven

and never put back again

All original words and images are property of Jennifer Cary Diers.

myfreecopyright.com registered & protected