Emily Kendal Frey

 

#1

#43

BIRDS ARE SO SOFT

IMAGINARY CLUB

IMAGINARY FLOODLIGHT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#1


We used to play a game
just as we boarded the subway car
of pretending not to know
one another. We'd sit close,
but not too. It was you
who was to initiate
the fake flirt and act
like you'd just noticed me,
get a glance or a nod.
Always I'd break and laugh
first. You had an uncanny
ability to make me feel
as if you didn't know me.
Like I was holding
my breath but for a dangerous
split second too long.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#43

 

 

We took turns launching a kadima ball

over the schoolhouse roof.

Whoever wasn't throwing would wait

for the stone-colored rubber to come sailing

like a bullet toward their head,

impossible to catch.

It took me several tries to make it over

but after that I threw farther and higher

than you did. After the sun set

we sat in the road and drank

bourbon, looked at the tiny stars.  

You told a story about trailing after

your mother on errands,

a butcher shop with jangling doors.

I put one of your hands

in my sweatshirt pocket.  This seemed

to give everything context.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BIRDS ARE SO SOFT

            after LW

 

 

Birds are so soft.

You canÕt imagine.

If you rub them the right way—

gentle, not hard, they love it.

They get pin feathers.

New feathers that grow in plastic-y sheaths.

You have to break them up with your fingers.

Fabulous. A head massage for the birds.

They coo, close their eyes,

and coo. YouÕll see.

Another bird or human can do this

with a beak or fingernail.

Remove the sheath. ItÕs heavenly.

TheyÕll melt in your hand. You will see.

YouÕll have a whole new set of sounds

you can make with your mouth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IMAGINARY CLUB

 

 

Dear Jalapeno,

Dear Savage,

He moves deeper into the well.

Storm creepers.

LetÕs see that transformer

movie together.

Dear Battering Ram,

Keep me a seed

between your knees.

Your inconsequential

hallway story.

Your ramps and

their exit signs.

Dear Bridge,

Dear Venerable—

We give out passes
to laugh tracks.

I leave the stands.

IÕve got you-colored
shit on my hands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IMAGINARY FLOODLIGHT

 

 

Dear Jalapeno,

Dear Pier,

Dear Estimate—

IÕm sorry I hurried you
in the banana section.

My hair was wet
and sticking to my back.

Dear Rainbow,

Dear Shame,

Dear Straight Up—

What IÕm about
to say is not

unromantic.
Dear Circumference,

Dear Sand Dollar,

Dear Gauge,

Dear Acquaintance—

You measured the field
of my neck.

Put it back, Dear Incline.

Unable to separate
the spoons

from the knives.
Dear Apostrophe—

I slid my fingers
along what you might have said
if the circumstances
were different.