Five Poems
Elizabeth Cantwell
How Come No One On Twitter Is Talking About This
The eye a camera humming across the top of the earth : cavern
gully ravine gorge Far below a tiny man jumps into a tiny
How Come No One On Twitter Is Talking About This
The eye a camera humming across the top of the earth : cavern
gully ravine gorge Far below a tiny man jumps into a tiny
You mean to say, “hello” or “good morning,” but you know that, between us, that would be strangely inappropriate before our morning cup of coffee
“You’re damned if you do and damned if you won’t”
The ferry man asked, Where is its mom? I am his mother!
I am a hoarder trying to salvage pieces.
I put on underpants and pants and socks and shirts in the same sequence every day
I’d’ve led him by the wrist. Still but blinding four pm/ back home blazed against the glass.
Under haze of junior-prom fog machines,
my cells pulsed with
non-senescence
Your hand had never fully formed, a shadow made of lint & oil. Decades pass, divination is still predicated on how long a candle lasts, how long tea sits in a cup. Coffee? I never touch the stuff.
here were girls who sank/ a thousand leagues beneath his hips/ and never bobbed back for air. I came ashore/ in a body of my own, crooked gate/ and piano fingers
I’m shoving fat candles into dirt,
blowtorching the wicks and tooting
horns.
I couldn’t render enough tallow
to properly honor over 4 billion years,
sorry,
you have so many hills.
Is this new relationship self-sabotage in disguise, or is it the cure?
Garielle's longest, most peculiar, most particularized book. A sure-to-be collector's item. Not be be missed!