PEACEMAKER
i brush my cheek with a lover so bewildered by kissing, he detonates
my clenched gristle instead. in red honey clothes, i am similar flesh
& you know new lovers: always making do. what a brilliant excuse
to lie on our backs, we cackle, cuffing our pants to splash the puddle
widening between muzzle & mouth. drip, drop. i covet this
lover’s arsenal: how his ribs click
into holy posture, how his next kiss
rattles already between voluptuous brass teeth. in his
now-spotted shine, i spot my jaw uncork,
to reveal the ruddy funnel cloud
love hid under my tongue. i shudder
at the new weather, though i understand it
has not fallen to me
to decipher, or to consider whether
this fertile laceration is
my fault.
ONLY LOVE WHAT I CAN’T HAVE
i am homesick for alternate histories.
for the rubble that could make small
the rubber bullets and tear gas rivers
we pray spit us onto distant,
golden shores. sometimes, i had
my collar tightened for me.
or i was mossy rock, protuberant
root. once, someone’s father
owned a speedboat & everyone
chugged diesel on their own
private beach. the bright
pollution bodies, writhing
in the sky, made small
the dutiful bombs catcalling them.
Nicholas Gruber is an MFA candidate at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas. His writing has appeared in The American Journal of Poetry and Furrow Magazine, and elsewhere online. Also a Creative Writing and Composition Instructor, he’s stacking paper. Instagram: @nic.gruber
Photo by HeatherBradleyPhotography on Foter.com