| ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM |
| ***BIO*** Mathias Nelson is (by luck) a Pushcart nominated writer living in the cold of Wisconsin. For contact information and publication updates, please visit http://www.nyqpoets.net/poet/mathiasnelson |
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| © 2009 zygoteinmycoffee Ink. |
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| This Morning Dove |
| by Mathias Nelson |
| In every room there is no room for art.
Voices stream from boxes, images of American absurdity. My father, estranged, sardonically yells: “Someone took the batteries out of the remote! Some body, ah-hee-he-heee!” And my mother speeds about, eagerly, room to room: “I can’t find my glasses if I can’t see them!” I take my blue notebook to the backyard. It’s so bright and stifling that it feels like I’m shitting pushing this thing out on the sun. The neighbor is a: radio full of announcements flag whipping in the caustic breeze motorcycle revving engine man going through the 45 yr. old plunge trying to make as much noise as possible to keep from thinking, the American way a goblet overflowing with beer “I’m only having four, honey!” And the train shoots by at the foot of this lawn, jostling clamoring along rails, screeching breaks, honking that horn. Don’t these people know that I’m a, uh— what was I? An old morning dove quietly lands on the deck banister sick with fear of human hullabaloo feathers ruffled, tipping into a mindless darkness it looks at me with small, wet black eyes blinks rapidly, shits one tiny black pebble like a burnt piece of gravel, then flies off and drops dead in the babel air. These flames burning my skin I now know that we are sweat blotching about the paper erasing our own words. |
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| Jan. 2009 |
| 112 |