Two of “Those People”
Please, I know it’s hard by ear, but if you can,
turn me to dogwood song. Sharpen me here,
flatten me out there. Roll me out between two
sheets of parchment paper, probably with a
soup can because who has a rolling pin? Bake
at a temperature hot enough to bake things for
a time long enough to forget what’s in the oven.
Enjoy. What a sour song I used to sing before
you, and now, well, now it’s a sweeter rendition.
A cheap imitation but sometimes those are
best. Or is it umami? Woodpecker slurping
creepy crawlies. Speaking of tongues, at least
we’re not two of “those people” for whom
cilantro tastes like soap. I’m missing dogwood
flowers, and it’s only been but hours since I’ve
seen one. Change me, my every other note.
poem w/ a claim from rose, eck, & hick
What’s killing the church? Encountering
god; god has many names. Maybe god’s
in Michigan, where I’ll never know what’s
it like to always live. Maybe god’s in one
of the trash bags desperately thrown into
the alley dumpster by the cigarette-ladies,
wherever it was that they came from.
Who’s looking, anyway? Who’s finding?
What did you find, and was it god, when
you bit headlong into that apple bruise?
What’s killing god? Encountering church;
church has many names. Maybe church’s
clinking glasses, hear-hearing, and the
like. Maybe church is the one story I’ve
not told you. I didn’t tell
you any, you say? Maybe
church is the things escape
Did you find church when you
bit headlong into that apple bruise?
Tom Martin is a senior theatre & English major at Truman State University in Kirksville, Missouri. Other pieces by Tom have been included in The Monitor (Kirksville, MO) and The Moon Zine (St. Louis, MO). Connect with him via Twitter (@tomartin31), open letter, or two tin cans connected by a string.