Let’s Get Those Pants Off
Let’s raise some babies,
like a fucking library
full of babies.
Let’s have them
in poverty. Let’s do anything.
the vegetation of disaster.
Let’s pick the carrots—
the white ones
are useless. Let’s adorn
our walls with crown
molding like people
used to when homes didn’t
look like sterile slabs
of drywall bespeckled
with fire safety. “If you play
with fire, you’ll get burned.”
That’s a poster
I have in my office.
Let’s tear the fucker down.
Shame on us
we’ve thrown out
all the middle
those of you who pretend
to know you’ve probably
called them “you know,
those nesting dolls.” We know.
It’s okay. Let’s forget about that
and carry on. Weren’t you excited
to hear about the part when we
were going to have babies?
Let’s carry on. I didn’t think
we’d need a wheelbarrow, but
fuck, here’s a wheelbarrow. Look
at this door. This is a good door:
solid, wooden, hinged. We didn’t
recognize its value before we had to
leave to go have all that sex.
To Squeak and Bend and Sleep
Could you break a long strand of puss willow
along the broad side of my cheek? Watch the little beads
of grey hedgehogs fall into the creek. Give it here, damnit.
I need a mule-cart filled with bowls of grease the next time
I move. My hips are starting to give
up looking. For a missing piece completes
the image of a home. I’m coming
to understand why barometric pressure is important
and why gravediggers know how to greet the sun. I want you
to know how to greet the sun. Good luck
finding a cottage suitable for spider webs and hiding
gloves. You know that finding a bed of flowers requires
a gun. Scrape the cream off of your tongue. Find a window.
You can stand up, clamber up anything, clutter the toilet,
with your bugs. Find a cottage filled with cheese and crumbs.
Find something for your hips to grab. Trace your fingers along
the hard-hearted way you choose to breathe and sneeze.
Peter Burzynski is a fourth-year PhD student in Creative Writing-Poetry at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. He holds a B.A. from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, a M.F.A. in Poetry from The New School University, and a M.A. in Polish Literature from Columbia University.
In between his studies, he has worked as a chef in New York City and Milwaukee. He is an assistant poetry editor for the cream city review and Graduate Assistant Coordinator for Creative Writing at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming from The Best American Poetry Blog, Thin Air, Prick of the Spindle, Working Stiff, Thrush Poetry Review, Your Impossible Voice, RHINO, and Forklift Ohio, amongst others.