Laura Buccieri: #NotTrump Series
November 9, 2016
today is silent sounds
wings flapping rain
puddling the bellies
of cars scraping the speed
bump children yelling
at each other
go back to where
you came from
today is dizzy
no eating the sky
matches the pavement
the grey weight of heaven
so heavy it drips
down to me
light headed from the breeze
outside is temperature
of varying degrees
today i stay inside
a bag of baby carrots
is torn open
spilling out onto the counter
i keep forgetting to eat
keep forgetting to go outside
afraid i won’t recognize
what remains
today is numb
to the sounds
of anything dressed
in a suit
i’m so far away
from tying a knot around
my neck
from padding my shoulders
from formalizing grief
he wouldn’t want me
to wear a suit rather
i show my knees
today is coffee
stained white t shirts
up all night red
eyes and grey skies
and a blue flower dying
in my window reflection
i see the bag of baby
carrots i’m still in black sweats
i pick one from the bag
i run my tongue along
the s-shaped curve of it’s frame
every turn every bend every curve
a wave a wave a wave
a new direction
i called it lucky
so i made a wish
upon a curved carrot
sun setting silence
outside the somber
noises of daily functions
not functioning
in the same way
as yesterday
Laura Buccieri lives in NYC, where she is an MFA candidate in Poetry at The New School. You can find her forthcoming and most recent work in Bustle, Prelude, Potluck, PANK, Word Riot, The Seventh Wave, Reality Beach, Nourrir, Yes Poetry, Public Pool, Entropy, and FORTH. She works at Freeman’s Journal and Berl’s Brooklyn Poetry Shop. Check out more of her work here: laurabuccieri.com.
