Spoken Word: 3 Poems by Jessie Lynn McMains

Spoken Word: 3 Poems by Jessie Lynn McMains

dollar store sonnet

I would like to say when I look upon your face my soul
blooms a redolent proliferation of wildflowers, do-you-
like-butter yellow, softpink and white and purple-blue
like the May fields and forests, the knot of bluebells bursting
through the dead leaves and the spilled coins of Anemone
ranunculoides but really when I look at you my soul
is more like a dollar store at eight p.m., no one else
around and I’m free to roam the aisles of tile and fluorescent
light, picking up each item and turning it over and over
in my hands before choosing two things I need—a new
notebook and a jar of marinara sauce—and one small treat—
Halloween knee socks, purple and white striped, dotted
with fanged cartoon bats, and after I buy them I still have
five bucks left for beer from the 7-11 next door.

love me tender

for patrick

The night we drank bourbon w/
ginger ale & lemon & danced
to Elvis in our summer kitchen,
I thought love should always be
so tender. Love should always
be the moon a wedge of lemon
against the black velvet canvas
of the night sky, the hot-soft
heat of July pouring through
the screen door while lovers pour
more drinks & dance slow & close
until the whole world is the
velvet drawl of Elvis’ voice &
those blue suede guitars & the
two of them alone together
beneath the kitchen light.

fiddlehead song (small good things)

for nina

if the headvoice marley-moans of nogood, search thru static
for another station. a soul radio soft n’ low, small enough to fit
inside the whorl of your ear. an aria circus-whistled, chorus
of horsehooves and spangled ladies shaking feathered behinds. 
o sing a song of spira mirabilis. o sing a song of furled fiddlehead
fronds, wildthings so spring-young. pluck a few and fry ‘em
in your favorite skillet. serve them with your sweetest wine. taste
the wild, grass and fresh. sosmall things can be the biggest good.
a flea circus can be tucked inside a pocket. an entire ocean can fit
inside the spiral of a teensy shell. your heart scrolls like a fiddletop;
your heart is rightsized. a small stringed instrument on which to
pluck n’ scrape a wild reel. the reel of the rain that drums on
springmud and calls the fronds up thru the earth. the raindrops
alone are tiny but o. remember all the ways the rain can hold you.
 

Spoken Word: 2 Poems by Kristin Garth

Spoken Word: 2 Poems by Kristin Garth

Spoken Word: Three Poems by Gina Marie Bernard

Spoken Word: Three Poems by Gina Marie Bernard