Two Poems
Sara Matson
<w.i.n.t.e.r.>
pinched hiemal décor
black lacquer electric
accordion slapped like a base
+ similarly useful (only when plugged in)
skull slingshot cradle as
final wish // eternal prank
how many people do i know
who would drink my blood
to save a life
clots + all
i am a firesale flying toaster dumpster squad car hurling
out the passenger (ejector) seat printed
safety card for microwaves //// pen scratch that will be sent into space
a modern starship
no, more modern //// post mortem module modem modernity
roving eyes scratched the back of the scapula
w/broken lipstick tubes but
expected (perfunctory)
during this
infecund season of
frigid russian literature
1980s operatics
color changing mittens
waring stars pinprick splits in the cheesecloth (noir)
dusty mountains of nutmeg cardamom orange cinnamon cloves
( jesus christ the cloves )
but even now nearer 40 i didn’t expect it to be
this sexy ///
burgundy velvet choker endlessly rolling an insatiable tongue
line up necessary gasses
push too hard with a twenty dollar pen
(push into the paper)
steel back boring culture
the stink of desperation // the fantasy of advanced decay
from opaque eyed birds labored breathing
single crusty nostril squalling each breath to dispersal
sleeping breaths gliding under door of awake body
made still w/ different words
an incantation voiceless
behind stringed instruments
made to look like a piano
i press my face to wallpaper
the texture of fruitskin
scenic-scented yogurt slathered the ceiling
spoon dripping to frosted sill
(old milk in beard smell)
hands for scissors
i dreamwatch infinite snowflakes
crash into plastic flowers +
roll in spicy dirt
extra long single hair stuck to wet skin
dirty fingers on the tongue gagging i can’t
get it off can’t touch a nightmare
barren w/ child hood trauma +
driven w/ pink cadillac pride
i spit my name (an acronym)
into the snow
< post office translations >
mail which i made
a stone + a scream
in coma of some kind
staccato coyote mail
no, it is coyote mail
:::memory override:::
some people read
in public school libraries
in green silk gowns
on hand scented parchment
rolled + ribboned
to soft leather booted boys w/
braided tail
caught in dusty meadow
like a horse’s asshole
winking + laughing to the
sound of ocean
(gulls, splashing, synthesizers, etc.)
surrounded in stars
clouds or nuclear decay
train running w/
sticky legs
orange to teal
yellow to cerulean
knowledge hats of peculiar sizes
:::memory override:::
+ there were great ships
crashing waves, rocks
seasickness for generations
of unnaturally blonde mothers
horns announcing glorious
arrivals orators sharing w/
glee bursting a golden banner
while satellites fall from orbit
in spectacular explosions
paper 3D glasses
encasing each event in
natural glass
opaque
+ grimy
Sara Matson’s poetry has been nominated for Best of the Net 2019 + can be found or forthcoming in The Journal Petra, Bone Bouquet, Pink Plastic House: A Tiny Journal, and elsewhere. Sara’s chapbook, electric grandma is available from Another New Calligraphy and her chaplet, Forgotten: Women in Science is available from Damaged Goods Press. Sara lives in Chicago with her rad husband + cats, and Tweets as @skeletorwrites. More of Sara Matson’s poems can be found at neutralspaces.co/saramatson