tonight, tomorrow, forever

Standard

if i told you

you wouldn’t believe me
so i just poem it

where the sound of
to blur
the voice
reaches cataclysmic
rendering

you know the one
over crackled phone
over a shallow breath
of yet uncalculated risk

if only the lines
curved right
at the
dial tones

a confession
straight ahead


Michele McDannold is the author of Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days, a book of poetry available from PUNK HOSTAGE PRESS. She was the Editor-in-Chief at Red Fez Publications for five years and is currently the editor/publisher at Citizens for Decent Literature. She has an extensive collection of flannel and rubber chicken heads. For more, please visit michelemcdannold.com.

you have to stop calling me momma

Standard

if only i had a working uterus..
i could birth nations of ___
(and thus begins the problem)
un-gender specifics
breed them sweet, dirty hands
that smell of lanterns
that smell of lilac falling
common denominator =s beat
no,
beat.
chipless wonderers that eat the heads of consumption
the line is too long
the thought is diluted
my babies write poems to burn in a stolen fire
campside, along the cold desert night
not really here today
nor gone tomorrow


Michele McDannold is the author of Stealing the Midnight from a Handful of Days, a book of poetry available from PUNK HOSTAGE PRESS. She was the Editor-in-Chief at Red Fez Publications for five years and is currently the editor/publisher at Citizens for Decent Literature. She has an extensive collection of flannel and rubber chicken heads. For more, please visit michelemcdannold.com.