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foust

Graham Foust
Four Poems


Concussion

If God is not
a Polaroid
by God God’s not
a Polaroid.

It’s good
that we rummage through smoke
and that we die.

      (Says here the rub’s a bruise.)

I want the full
glare my body
veils to not tear
my air away.

I want to turn
up in my mind
to not be hit.



Managed Care

A person may see
uncertain
things when in pain.

Some shadows are rowdy.
Their weight is
(say it):  bright.

Flowers in a blue
glass, capable
as doors.

Sun erases
all the grass.
The yard is done for.



On Television

I thought I saw you in
the mirror through the window.

You do
remember don’t you.

Absence of evidence isn’t an answer.

      *

I thought you saw me through
the window in the mirror.

You don’t
remember do you.

Evidence of absence isn’t an answer.

      *

What part of
what part of no

don’t you understand
don’t you understand

on one more American-money-ugly morning

busy-intersection
skittish in a bed.

      *

A blindfold could bullet
me closer to query.

But first another picture of the world.



Poem with Pepper Spray and Bottle Opener

Like anyone’s, mine
is but a body full
of signals.  A body full
of signals and fixing
to winter.  Them lemon
wedges brim themselves,
and something the color
of worry isn’t spit into

my quiet.  You have
the most beautiful
house keys.  You leave
me just enough
awake to watch
you leave.

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