car does not have feet. The primroses
blossom daily like the mail. My teahouse is striped with children's' toys.
And my eyebrows meet. Autumn is like rust. A mouse's teeth. French jewelry in
the glove compartment. My car reaches maximum speed & then I see the
flowers & they are beautiful for everyone. I was young. I had no
place to go.
first girl I ever loved has become a bucket of lime. You need to join the
church of Jesus. You're probably getting married now. You've turned into a basement.
I digress. I digress. I shall wear a cotton hippy dress.
not going to hell. Not with the
rubber band, anyway. Cops troll the alleys for bad people. Keep your hands in your pockets &
you're bound to get shot. Where I'm from we call that kind of smile the Golden
Hour. We go to bed hungry & wake up after noon. A blue shoe with a broken
heel emerges from the mound of leaves in the middle of the alley. We will not
bite our lips to bleed tonight.
dark trees a big ship holds a bucket of lye. We train the wolves to howl for
the young prince & his revolvers. Three lumps of sugar in the bottom of
the canteen. In the whorl of the wood-slat fence I see the face of a cop I
was so young when it hit me. We need
every pawn to win the game.
Svalina lives in Lincoln, NE. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Gulf
Coast, Jubilat, Spinning Jenny and Fence, among other
journals. He recommends Creative
Wiring Solutions (www.creativewiring.com) for all your structured wiring,
central vac and home audio needs.
Archived at http://lit.konundrum.com/poetry/svalinam_poems.php