Nocturne with "Kickstart my Heart" Playing in the Background
When a rock star dies,
the moon goes hungry.
When a rock star is reborn,
jolted back to the stage
by gasoline and guitar strings
and the kiss of someone else’s
girlfriend, the planets burn.
There’s no word for a moment like this,
for being in such a hurry
to love each other
that time dries on our tongues.
Driving past the cancer center
thinking myself profound,
I say, “Everyone in there is dying
or visiting someone dying
or trying to save someone from dying.”
You ask, “How
is that different from out here?”
the moon goes hungry.
When a rock star is reborn,
jolted back to the stage
by gasoline and guitar strings
and the kiss of someone else’s
girlfriend, the planets burn.
There’s no word for a moment like this,
for being in such a hurry
to love each other
that time dries on our tongues.
Driving past the cancer center
thinking myself profound,
I say, “Everyone in there is dying
or visiting someone dying
or trying to save someone from dying.”
You ask, “How
is that different from out here?”
Still Life with Laughtrack
There is one more thing I should tell you about myself.
I’m in the midst of a project
involving wood glue, screws,
the comfort of a hammer.
I am better with my hands than you think I am.
Our cabinets in pieces.
Your naked skepticism.
I haven’t been reading enough but the laundry is done.
My brother says the most important part of any job
is having the proper tools.
My muscles forget but my bones remember.
Last night it hailed like the fall of Rome.
Our evening plans canceled
by lightning, I began work. There
is a possibility you will be correct in the end. Imagine
we are in an episode of that show you enjoy.
My line. A beat. Your rebuttal. Canned laughter rising.
I’m in the midst of a project
involving wood glue, screws,
the comfort of a hammer.
I am better with my hands than you think I am.
Our cabinets in pieces.
Your naked skepticism.
I haven’t been reading enough but the laundry is done.
My brother says the most important part of any job
is having the proper tools.
My muscles forget but my bones remember.
Last night it hailed like the fall of Rome.
Our evening plans canceled
by lightning, I began work. There
is a possibility you will be correct in the end. Imagine
we are in an episode of that show you enjoy.
My line. A beat. Your rebuttal. Canned laughter rising.
Amorak HueyAmorak Huey, a 2017 National Endowment for the Arts Fellow, is author of the poetry collections Ha Ha Ha Thump (Sundress, 2015) and Boom Box (Sundress, forthcoming in 2019) as well as the chapbooks The Insomniac Circus (Hyacinth Girl, 2014) and A Map of the Farm Three Miles from the End of Happy Hollow Road (Porkbelly, 2016). He is also co-author with W. Todd Kaneko of the textbook Poetry: A Writer’s Guide and Anthology (Bloomsbury, 2018) and teaches writing at Grand Valley State University in Michigan.
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