Poetry by edie roberts

                  Jo Guldi CC




​​i’m so good at problems
 
once on a dare, 
i put my body into bridge pose 
and let everyone in the room
kiss me 
 
there is a true story in my mouth
foaming up the mountain
knives in the kitchen
soft asleep 
 
i give up  
 
i hold a cup 
and the faucet mouth 
coughs out a river
healed with disinfectants
 
i increase the risk of 
malign growths 
by doing nearly 
anything 
 
there has to be a way 
to convince you
i don’t mean any harm
 
even when i say 
 
i don’t care





there is no fixing  


my front tooth is chipping away 
and i’m sure that means something 
is wrong inside of me 
manifesting itself 
were my tongue can 
trace it 
 
it takes more than guts to
ask for help in America 
it takes a sense of worthwhile 
that needs constant 
attention
 
i am laughing about 
mid-life like 
i’m sure that has come 
and gone by 
anxiety surfing 
the whole time 
 
when the singer asked what we thought 
at age 25 i thought
my father died 
at 49 
 
i thought 
it’s hard to think
beyond that 

rosily 

i make jokes about 
my body in mutiny 
my mind like 
 
whatever 

i don’t want to make myself
a little button crimped 
and pinned into 
holding it all 
together
 
together we can make a dent 
in a cop car 
if we stand in front of it
and brace for impact





draught 


when i am walking 
i am trying 
thinking hips first like
head a horse to 
a watering hose 
watch it lap 
happily 

i am thinking 
gushing crystal out

i am looking at a sun 
ribboned mirror thinking  
explosions 

summer is the favorite 
consenting brutality 
and if you succeed  
to lead your hips 
the men tell you your
legs deserve a mouth
with big dicks in it

they are 
trying to be sweet 
they say
a cackling 
spit glows and rotates
do you need a ride
do you need some help
do you got a man
do you have a means to 

when i am walking 
i am thinking 
how to be held 
against the giveaway 
of frame and 
what are the consequences of 
successful deceit 

i am a body for a dumpster 
i am a body made of confusion 
and my delusion is a glint blind
and mirrored antagonism 

when i am walking 
i am thinking 
of the spit glowing sweetly
and me on it 
for successfully leading 
with my hips 
and when i am sitting 
i am thinking 
of the hips that lead 
and the split of them 
gushing crystal out 
i am thinking 

hips first to lead a horse 
so thirsty it can’t think





the grass is green


i am wondering how long 
i can park a shitty camper in the alley 
before the city notices
knocks on the window 
tells me to leave 

my little piece of canned ham 
too fuzzy hot in the condo kitchen 
home is no where for long

how about that dream 
america, you look stupid 
new manifest destinies 
escape from society 
little queer wonderlands 

escape is not 
to move your sick 
into the country 
and let the earth 
hurt to heal you

escape is not 
turn back time 
and farm yourself 
to salvation 

the big rot sucks 
the life out and it 
follows you like a
child

in the time it takes to unlearn 
the landlord inside each of us has 
too much invested to
walk away

i’m not here to tell you
your visions of the future
are syndicated and crass
but i would like to know 
what you tell yourself

​

edie roberts is a gender mess blessed with excess anxiety and midwestern disposition. they currently live in Detroit, MI and dream of fully-automated leisure utopias and the end of scarcity. their books include Ain’t Life Grand (pitymilk, 2020) and Everywhere You Go (bathmatics, 2019) among others. follow along at https://edieroberts.wordpress.com/ - twitter @squabtasticcc

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