Dead Flowers -By-
Nicholas Arthur
Dead Flowers -byNicholas Arthur
Dead Flowers is a collection of poems that weren’t included in my previous collections. I tend to scrap a lot of things I don’t use, but these have survived for whatever bizarre reason. Hopefully they’re not too cringeworthy.
1.
Cooking I saw hangnails sketching silhouettes of her on a scrap sheet of paper.
The shadows played ping pong, best 3 of 5, and talked about their train sets.
Her moans constructed of the ghosts of trees, her lips moving in scratched off graphite. Beer and smoke sang and danced until the sun came up. But she never inhaled any more oxygen or uttered another syllable than when she was first committed to paper.
2.
Shiver I held you in the backseat, trying to stop the anemic shiver that worked its way through your body. It must’ve neared zero that night in the park. I turned the heat on. I’ve rarely felt closer to someone.
3.
Stalling Dust mites locked lips behind drawn curtains over the drone of the neighbor’s compressor. It’s midday and I haven’t stepped outside in a while. It takes longer than I expected to get up. When I do I realize that it’s probably going to be all right.
4.
Caffeine Rotted teeth in a rotted skull where all your lingering dreams slip away. Artificially propping you up at a cubicle. Hands shake, your hangover
sinks its fangs into your temples. The minutes tick by, slow.
5.
Decay Long worn away and drifting. Pictures yellowing at the edges. Thinning hair and shaking hands. Pink gums recede into oblivion. Half awake I float in Between dreams and reality. Keeping things together and keeping normal hours only makes it more acute.
6.
(2014) The other day we went to the mountains. We took a lot of pictures. All of which turned out better than expected. But on the way back, I dropped it at a gas station. The screen had a neat little spider web of cracks. I screamed and paced back and forth, trying to revive it with taps to the ON button. On the way back, sullen and quiet, I tried to remember the mountains, tried to remember the breathtaking view. All I could remember was worrying about the pictures. It was like it never happened at all.
7.
The Graveyard Shake The tomb stones shake and the corpses dance. Teeth chatter rhythms to songs once played on the radio. A time when rock n’ roll was new and people pretended to be happy.
8.
Balcony I smoked cheap cigars from the balcony, letting the smoke billow out through my nose. I threw the lime half that I chomped to near pulp earlier over the balcony. It landed on a plastic playscape below. I wonder how the kid’s father will explain the mangled, alcohol-soaked lime the next day. I don’t know how I would. I’m glad I don’t have to explain alcohol-soaked limes just yet.
9.
Probable Cause I had a joint in my pocket. They searched and found it. Head pressed against a brick wall. I could feel the contours of my face shaping to its pattern. I heard talk of “theys� on the other side of the metal partition. Shotgun in full view.
10.
Afar The spirit of a deer dances with tree limbs as some hunters pry buckshot from its side. The work quickly, spilling a bit of moonshine on the open wounds.
11.
1954 It’s good I got an education when wooden rulers didn’t inspire fear. One nation under one God, in unison since 1954.
12. House Cat The saw dust leaves a fine gold layer across the work bench. The sun reflects off of The tools and a metal smell floats across the room. The grass is still wet and the morning paper is waiting on the porch. The coffee is ready and there’s a new pack of menthol cigarettes on the table, eggs on the pan. I don’t have to work today. It’s strange getting up this early, considering you’ve been gone for years now and I’ve never liked breakfast much. If I stopped doing it though, I might remember you’re never coming back. You left your cat, a sad-eyed tabby who licks my face every morning to start the day.
13.
Loss with Benefits Submerged with the dead filaments and unused coffee grounds. Down in a ghosts stomach. Lost in forgotten love songs and tacky paperbacks you sold for a quarter at your garage sale. Is a buzzing static that helps you sleep a bit easier at night.
14.
Look Back in Embarrassment, Look Back Lovingly The teeth of a million dreams flutter apart, splitting at the seams. Machines hum gracefully and whales moan in approval, scattering softly spoken key note speeches to all the wrong parts of the galaxy. Where milk goes sour at a rapid pace where heroes groan, where villains feel safe. Where fingers never crack or spin fresh gold. Where your organic fruits will instantly mold. A place where you can read a heartfelt poem you wrote and still feel the same. To smooth over the crinkled edges and not understand you were lame.
15.
Forgetting to Say Goodbye There are distant sounds in the night, stirring up bad poetry under the glare of cheap liquor. I am alone and waiting for something I can’t quite explain. I forgot to say goodbye as I walked in the wrong direction on Third Street. It’s still on my mind years later, snow falling down soft on the ledge. It’s too late to say anything now. Too many years have passed and you’ve forgotten. Detroit looks brighter and less familiar these days.
Dead Flowers
Photo by Kathleen Trombley
About
Nicholas Arthur is 26 years old and currently lives in Michigan. He is a Wayne State University graduate. Along with poetry he dabbles in music, writing and art. When he is not writing he can be found looking in the bargain bin at the record store, drinking coffee far too late at night, and eating breakfast any time he pleases. He has a cat named Simba.