ISSUE  1   2   3  


 5     SUBMIT

Two Poems

Cara Benson

Perhaps You’re Ugly,
But All’s Well

after John Ashbery

Pt. I

These niceties are a noxious bother.
Sky fishing is pondering the after
life. Squint, boy.
Hold your hand up to block the incoming

Ribbed corduroy workpants and I’ll give notice, brother.
Inheritance. Fighting. Blood. Ignorance.

Swimsuit around my ankles;
the captain meandered.
Liars one, then
Blue sky quitter. You think
anyone’s loose change jangles like mine?

There is nothing so iconoclastic as a trend setter.
FIRE! – master. Run. Wash your hands of the bricks.
Always bring your own money (or ride).
I’m full. I’ll never leave.
The garden blooms in silence.


7:12:29 I fold the dishcloth over the cupboard door. The cloth is damp from dinner duty.
7:12:36 the cupboard door sways ajar with said dish cloth still not dry. I kick the door.
7:12:42 the cloth slips to the floor when the door rebounds off the cabinet frame.
7:12:47 I kick the door again.
7:12:53 I stoop to retrieve the cloth and hit my head on the door.
7:12:59 I dab the cloth to the broken skin on my head.

In time a mouse shall know its maker. I will want to be there to take notes in case
the mouse should forget.

7:13:07 the phone rings.
7:13:10 it rings again.
7:13:13 I pick up the receiver on the third ring.

My mother has never been to Egypt nor have I nor are either of us planning to but if we
were to go we would surely bring back mementos and there will be a dinner.

7:13:19 I realize the person has dialed the wrong number and ask if he has the time.
7:13:27 I hang up and note the incident in my journal.

I have high hopes for the future and should we meet someday I’ll wear pink so you can
know who I am.