‘2 Poems’ by Graham Irvin

33425206856_771381dacb_z

my brothers were a lighthouse for the inner banks

they sighed a quarter mile at a time

we wrapped our truck around the chicken restaurant

my home was a bruise punched into new boots

i rode saddle soap down the bathtub walls

family was a scaffolding with no insurance

G asked why can’t i live there

he took his arms off with a side of ranch

my neck was getting long

our waists went out for a swim

the devil started to bother me at the post office

every road sign had rotten teeth

T chanted pantego pungo matcha fungo

i knew why my stepdad sent the flood

monday smelled like a hungry god

smiling faces were a primitive memory

i wanted everywhere to hide

time turned out the lights

my tears were blue ridge mountain peaks

i wanted to deep fry my brain for good

my mother told a story about feeling wild

a stain gathered near the graveyard trash

our tire tracks were made of wasps

the dead had a dream about human magnetism

a great snake built a concrete bruise

someone said beware of dogs

forgiveness was a mouth that called me daddy

every pocket knife was heart-shaped

i had lunch with a can of sardines

i got old and everything fell off

Graham Irvin is from Kannapolis, North Carolina. Same as Dale Earnhardt and Dale Earnhardt, Jr. His chapbook The Woods are now a Traffic Jam and my Family is Deleting Itself was published by Really Serious Literature in January. His poetry has appeared in The Nervous Breakdown, Instant Lit Magazine, Show Your Skin, Tenderness Lit, and Vagabond City. His prose has appeared or is forthcoming in Apathy Press, and Philosophical Idiot. Follow him on Twitter (@grahamjirvin).