from THAT WHICH COMES AFTER by Alexis Pope
from THAT WHICH COMES AFTER
I am so reckless in these five-dollar jeans
A hammock is less comfortable than I’ve imagined
My hangover pulling a suitcase
Burn my arm on spilled wax
Walk around smelling like expensive pine
I’m a lightning round question no one can answer
We are meeting in the middle of the road
It’s not a safe idea but there are no other plans
I’ve never been in a helicopter
I’ve never laid my body against the traffic
There are some memories I block
Pill bottles and snow
There were mushrooms in West Virginia
Your chest burnt through the trees
Your hands in fists to the sky
I opened my mouth to let you in
There were questions we wanted answered
There was a life we were pleading back
The dark water doesn’t mind
However you planned to ask
We were born into these bodies
I have been hiding in this tent
If you stare long enough you fall
When we came on the opening
We knew the charges
We accepted the choices to get here
I sunk my knees into the mud
I watched your back contort
This man is an animal
This country has no savior
I live in a home where the wind blocks
Anything I could hear from her
Hasn’t happened again
There are deaths & other deaths
Sometimes we know reasons
Sometimes we search for blame
There is still a hollow where my body fell
Where he caught me and laid me out
The hood of the car til daylight
The drugs do wear off
And there are always pancakes
There are always lessons
You never understand
from THAT WHICH COMES AFTER
Buying tampons
Is like buying diapers
It doesn’t end
Until it does
My blood petals
Its beautiful meaning
Am able to create
A lust from man
Asks what that poem is
And I know he doesn’t
Care to know me
There’s a soreness
I move over
The lids and I am
So raw inside
Of this coming snow
Adjust my socks for me
Pull me up
Ask which side
Of the bed I prefer
To not wait for
A ritual is what
I make happen for myself
I canopy trust
Can you enjoy this
Look at me when
I’m crying don’t
Look away
Municipality occupies
A landmark freckle
Passed over
With your words
Can I wake with
You beside me
The you in me changes
At least it does
Here is there ever
Decisions aren’t
Made in the moment
Over time we
Capsize into whatever
We’ve been running toward
from THAT WHICH COMES AFTER
I walk around holding my sex
Like orange juice
Fresh squeezed
Seems like half a life ago
The tender morning complaints
What have you birthed
In the blue January light
Phones reach across the states
Tangled in cord
Realize a paper moon
Woke with a handsome
Gin headache
Thought about calling
Thought about not
Distant grey sky
What does it look
Over you
The blankets we under
Stand again inside
When is the last time
You pledged allegiance
To something great
Fifteen-minute orgasm
A lover cradles your chin
All these in-between days
This never-ending season
Anxiety disorder
Touch the pill to
Back of my throat
Another pointing
Excuse for breathing
The same air
from THAT WHICH COMES AFTER
There’s a river in Pennsylvania
And one in West Virginia
Both have meant specific things to me
Thrill of disaster underwater
Surfacing is not always kicking your legs
I’ve had some time to think about repercussions
I wore the swimsuit out under my clothes
Take the big clock off the wall
It’s too early or late for time
Don’t remind me of my ruptures
Thumb a small pebble in your palm
The sky is not always blue
There are truths we commit
Undoing a wrong never undoes
My boobs are a lot smaller than before
We require a percentage of fat to live
After the raft flipped
I knew I didn’t want to die
Doesn’t mean I deserve
Blueberry pancakes on Tuesday
What don’t I know about your voice
Grind of the pencil sharpener on the wall
What would it take to find out
from THAT WHICH COMES AFTER
Cast a net over my hips
Always thought love was about ownership
The dolphins get caught with
There’s no love left in that
Lots of sea life isn’t very cute
Let’s talk about seals
Write an essay on my disease
Name it hole in the water
Breakfast is always served at 7am
Too early for food if you ask me
I’d say there was a day I fell out
But, no, I can’t circle it in
Whatever the name of the crayon
My body stays tired after sleep
You can’t name a street after your boyfriend
What man has ever listened to the rules
One day light will never come
That’s ok I tell you
We won’t be here to see it
Alexis Pope is the author of one book and three chapbooks. Pope’s work has appeared in Bat City Review, Barn Owl Review, Denver Quarterly, Poor Claudia, Powderkeg, and The Volta, among others. She lives with her daughter in Chicago and Instagrams as mysticpizzaroll.