He installed a zipper above his heart,
to ease the opening and closing of it.
At first without a key,
until he grew annoyed how,
during warm weather,
people would open or close it
based on their own whims.
So he added a lock,
had a few keys made,
gave them out.
Then the same problem emerged,
people letting themselves in even when
he didn’t want them to,
even those he thought he could trust.
So he got a combination lock instead,
memorized the code and never gave it out.
Years went by and one morning
he woke and, when he went to unzip
his sternum to play with his heart for a few minutes,
he discovered that he’d forgotten the combination.
From then on, opening his chest
would be impossible
without risking serious injury.… ...continue reading
A bitter breeze amongst the lonely seas.
Rogue wave…….^…..
Pricks my ears and dries my tears.
Rogue wave growing….^….
A single prayer that bleeds bare.
Rogue wave growing stronger….^..
Bleak downcast on the forecast.
Rogue wave growing stronger and..^…
I surrender to the fears I render.
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking….^…….I’m drifting.
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking my….^…I’m denying.
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking my mind..^..I’m drowning.
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking my mind as…^.saline kisses
Rogue wave growing stronger and
overtaking my mind as …^gasping.
Rogue wave growing stronger
and overtaking my mind as I submerge^
– Steve Oehmen… ...continue reading
After a night of applied malevolence and malfeasance, vigorous and almost strenuous peripatetic activity, hours of hair-sprung seething and cringing over ruined and missed opportunities, Mr. Edward Hyde looked well spent as the sun woke to blink into his face through the narrow spaces between the tenements in the distance. Whenever his face appeared drawn, a steady observer could perceive, his thick bristly eyebrows would each twitch toward the other.
Mr. Hyde was sprawled all over a park bench: arms stretched over and behind the bench’s back, feet and legs stretched wide apart, heels dug an inch or more into the damp dirt, chest alternately heaving silently or with a low wheeze, his haggard bristly face dropped back, eyes mostly shut and horribly bloodshot under their swollen lids.… ...continue reading
“You, brother, are appointed,” the figure calls. It has materialized before the homeless encampment on the youth baseball field. It raises two fingers high, then dips them toward the top of Larry’s head as if tipping a ball through the air. Though fifteen feet away on the sidewalk, Larry jerks back.
“You, brother, are anointed,” the man continues, in a deep and ringing voice, and the crown of Larry’s head feels suddenly damp and sticky under the thinning gray hair.
Sheila lunges to the end of her leash, barking at the guy. Larry has to jerk her back, and when he looks up again the figure is gone. Vanished into the not-so-thin air surrounding the tents and porta-potties and lawn chairs and trash.
This happens at 10:13 on a weekday morning, during Larry’s fourth canine outing of the day.… ...continue reading
I went to work at the prison
as I do every day.
I aid incarcerated women
with their education.
This day, I saw smoke
rising across the street.
Firetrucks were flashing—
men were in the street and yard.
I did not stay for too long—
I had a busy day ahead.… ...continue reading
Love, leftover in the
refrigerator night: 4 A.M —
The machines still
in my bones.
Old dirty lace – snapped!
Steel-yard rain,
hot-coiled smoke,
smell of septic
talk, talk, talk
to stay awake.… ...continue reading
“That’s what it does,” Maddie said, as they snaked their way through the crowd of cotton candy and sawdust. “Capitalism ruins everything. Who says the circus needed audience participation? They’ve been doing fine for centuries without VIP wristbands.”
Stella looked at her in that wry, amused way adults do, the expression that acknowledged a level of precocity while insisting on superiority over it.
“Well, we can always trade in our VIP wristbands for the regular ones.”
“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” Maddie said. She hated when people brought banal realities into an ideological rant. “It’s just that social media has fried our brains so much that we can’t stand to sit back and observe without demanding some level of participation. It’s sick. It’s covert narcissism.”… ...continue reading