Poetry by Jerrod E. Bohn

            ​David Prasad CC


​

The Stories Are Real

As if by tomorrow to see a tent
I will walk downtown, every door 
tarped over, high rises
without computers or running
feet, all of the puppies are gone
to homes that still have sidewalks.

Then come Saturday, a store
once boarded up will frame
pieces of its Frieda-style mural 
a unibrowed skeleton 
holding a tarantula of daisies

because the world is beautiful
absurd. Finally, next week
as the drawbridge gets stuck
a family will leave
their RV to wonder when
they forgot how to transform love
from verb to noun. Today

is authentic sorrow; I know
because when I enter the café
no one turns to ask if
all the walls I passed were tagged

I had a mouth
a handful of black pens absolutely
nothing I could name. 





When the Law Is Unjust

Turn the light back out & pray
there’s no moths left to chew through
the interior, sheets

only a glass of water separating
your mouth & a wall
you don’t recognize so much
as own, your hygiene

scrubbed all skin until you know
beyond bone whiteness
how to gaze. To being lit

have close a candle
to catch a reflection
you can dream hypnotic, darken

your phone’s screen never. If tonight
you meet the god of sleep, be sure 
not to let him know you’re just
passing through. 

​

A graduate of Colorado State U’s MFA program, Jerrod E. Bohn is the author of three full-length poetry books, Animal Histories (2017), PULP: A Manifesto (2018), and Ventric(L)e (forthcoming 2023) all from Unsolicited Press. His poetry and nonfiction has appeared in numerous literary journals and other publications. Bohn currently lives in Seattle where he is a college professor and part time writer for Bandbox Vinyl Record Club. Additionally, he runs Gravel: A Reading Series at a local brewery and enjoys cooking and being outdoors.

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