Forthcoming in Vestiges_03: Mimesis

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AN   ADDITIONAL   POEM

Is this the only alternative disappointment can offer?
The floor plan is as open as it’s ever been,
And we ideally maintain a cinematic grief
Outside a paradise swallowing our coordinates in its own wonder.
The dead don’t rise
But fall from above. I would look away
Into the room’s silent reception
But as my character recedes I tire of looking at all.
The world has ended. Your resurrection eyes
Come across this second to last line—you
Can be assured I have read this already.



AN   ADDITIONAL   POEM

How is use fair within user-determined cruelties?
The bucket spills out empty,
And we have shadowed each other
Unknown to either of us dealing florescence.
I suddenly understood why I was even standing there
But the image didn’t stick. Someone else might have guessed
Taking the appropriate channels
But like we really thought the supersize came with free refills.
The news comes to life. A rational response
Would be to quickly identify with your captors—you
Think better and get up to turn everything off.



AN   ADDITIONAL   POEM

What number should you call if you want to reach me?
The floor plan is as open as it’s ever been,
And we shadow ourselves
Within the persistent caroling of the reservoir.
Kindness is too much to suffer
But there was a lot of repetition. We could watch the preceding
Hypothetically between two windows
But even though we get along we never greet each other.
Yard is the more appropriate term. The trees
Are in your email just in case—we
Agree this is farther than you’ve ever been.



AN   ADDITIONAL   POEM

Is it hard to believe or not?
Domestic languor pays off in its own way,
And I can’t decide if I should wait
Like a head passing through the provenance of the masses.
A bit of melodrama is coughed up
But soon falls from above. I would look away
Seeing to the appropriate channels
But it was this kind of optimism that got me here in the first place.
Laughter averts a total collapse. The legislature
Is dragging a body across the lawn—I
Am assured this is definitely heaven.



AN   ADDITIONAL   POEM

How is use fair within user-determined cruelties?
We arrive in the middle of the night,
And our justifiable sensibilities have atrophied
Capitalizing off unexpected vacancies IRL.
A smile floats out of the elevator
But has since become routine. You know the program
As a spot in the developing sector
But history is irrelevant when we arrive in a vehicle of song.
This must be the end. The soundtrack
Delights on the remains of invention—you
Can be sure we’ve read this already.

 

Ted Dodson is the author of At the National Monument / Always Today (Pioneer Works, 2016) and Pop! in Spring (Diez, 2013). He works for BOMB, is the books editor for Futurepoem, and is a former editor of The Poetry Project Newsletter. Select publication can be found or is forthcoming in BOMB, Hyperallergic, The Brooklyn Rail, 6×6, Stonecutter, Prelude, Fanzine, The Atlas Review, and LIT.

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