Poetry By Nicolette Daskalakis

       alaina buzas CC




automatic mouths


My mouth asked:
How are you?
because that’s what it’s supposed to ask. 

Your mouth replied:
Ok.
because that’s what it’s supposed to say.

I watched you take a second
let the word hit the air and see if it landed 
right.

You looked at it
hanging in front of you
wondering if it was the right answer

eyes falling to meet your untied laces,
anywhere but me:
Yeah, just that, I guess. Ok.

My mouth shot off its automatic:
Well, we’re living in the fuckin’ apocalypse. 
(Friendly laugh) (Sip of  beer)

I watched it leave my mouth, automatic
at the speed of a second
drink, first party, crowd of smoking strangers  
I watched it
hanging there
 
and realized,
it was not the right answer.

You let your mouth smile, automatic
your head nod, automatic.

(Friendly laugh) (Sip of beer)

​


Born in the fog of San Francisco, Nicolette Daskalakis is a writer, filmmaker, and visual artist. Her work has appeared in Rattle, The New York Times, Pride.com, and elsewhere. She is the author of "Portrait of Your Ex Assembling Furniture." Nicolette holds a BA in Film & TV Production from the USC School of Cinematic Arts, and is currently pursuing a Masters in Fine Arts in France. You can find her at www.nicolettedaskalakis.com or on Instagram @hellonicolette and @nicolettepoetry