Reasons to be Cheerful

Tonight the Neighbors Spell JESUS on their Lawn in Christmas Lights

by Carrie Fountain

Walking by tonight, we’re reminded
there must’ve been a first time
for everything—one green shoot, a drop
of bluish water, a few red cells. 
The letters wink at us as if they know
what they’re for, and we go by, saying,
“Oh God, look at that,” as if we did, too.

Mornings, the lights are left on
to call very palely to the large,
uninterested sky. “We are all alone,”
they cry. And the sky answers back
by not moving an inch. 

from MIRANDA, OR AN ABRIDGED HISTORY OF THE TENTH GRADE

NATE SLAWSON

When will our fucking hearts cease to riot?

                      — Superchunk

I know I promised you 
I wouldn’t make a scene

in front of all your friends 
but is it so wrong if I write

your name across my shoes 
& sit by you at lunch

is it so wrong if I want
to stand next to you in gym

class O your legs remind me 
of a river bed I would do

a hundred sit-ups for 
you & whisper your name

& kiss my knees pretend-
ing they were you

      +++

do you remember the Halloween
I went dressed as a cello & you

were a postcard of the Chicago
skyline O that was the most

fantastic night you were all lit up 
& I played the same three notes

for you over & over again 
but now I’ve forgotten what

you said when I told you my heart 
had been welded shut I think

you said something about 
symmetry or else you laughed

& told me I should have 
come dressed as a bullet wound

       +++

I wrote your name on all 
my folders & drew your

silhouette like a bruise on the back 
of my hand O you are an arrow

in my wistful heart you are a 
radio that keeps me up each

night in bed but once upon 
a time you were a girl with

wings & you let me trace the 
fissures in your spine O why

can’t we go back to the time 
when you were a cloverfield

& I was a meadowlark in the 
engine of your delicate teeth

      +++

Miranda I said Miranda why 
do you insist on calling me

by my name when I asked you 
please to call me Ferdinand

to show me your teeth 
& show me your fists

goddamnit there are still 
some bones in my chest

you have yet to break 
if you want you could use

my ribs for a cage in which 
we both could live O if only

you’d draw a big black x & take 
that fucking pickax & swing

(via TYPO 13)