11/21/2017 Poetry by John Darrcradle evaporate into my skin my inner organ den a warping wall grey pillows wove a long my thistled membrane cave my purell-coated chamber, plastic children’s playset lumined on my switchlashed broadway stage the furnace hums like magnifying glasses under sun toes dug in this polaroid incarnation of my kindergarten summer lawn i see the miles imagining a mountaintop affords allowance stored in vestment banks i spit 4 candle years over cake on tiny porch our pumpkins ate up slugs from soily portal glut or gun in shriveled pillow corner the 30-year old hologram of my optimal prediction tending to a crib cradling my blue-skinned would-be baby in your arms, your biceps ribboned red: “a parent’s love is stronger than each spark you’ve ever been.” so tourniquet your ribbon words around my heart and clear me> college app please consider me i have considered it. i have a dream i have a mop it sits in me don’t let me get the tylenol this carpet suits my attitude this park bench suits my adderall i miss you when the windows dark at weird times in the afternoon chainsaw They tapped the blood of our forest, piped syrup into their veins. Strapped us to the bed of a truck to be severed and disseminated. Our legs ripped apart, nailed to chairs in two separate junkyards. I have seen three hundred autumns now from seven different dumpsters. It’s been years since I finished counting the stars. I am running out of space between them for my smoke as I burn. I’m silent and still. And I burn too slowly for anyone to see. ![]() Bio: John Darr is a poet, teacher and music critic from Richmond, VA. He is currently an MFA candidate at Wichita State University. Comments are closed.
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