MELISSA STAFFORD
THE TONIGHT SHOW
This Monday morning I am
eyes so tired from staring
at flat plastic screens I move
from one to the next shell
shocked I might as well be
sitting in a bunker, or better yet,
in the middle of crossfire.
Somehow I feel each bullet
would miss me, not because I
feel saved or special, but because
I seem to slip all important
connections. Sometimes I
watch myself vanish in your
arms. Other times I
walk through crowds
touching everyone
without their permission
I use to fake
leg cramps so my father
would massage them.
I made my parents keep
the television on
when they went to bed
so that I could imagine they
were close by. And I
would sit by the door listening
to them talk late
at night about leaving.
Johnny Carson
would look at me
and smile.
CRAVE
For three months we dined
on smoked fish
every night yet
I remained
starved. Herrings
only serve to
distract. Now he
cries challenge like wolf
and I whisper into
my pillow the following
words of advice:
Heaven does not contain her
she makes wide her throat
and bellows
I am sated
Finally. And you
You will always