Nora Almeida – Two Poems

Nora Almeida

Two Poems

Synapse

fire a spark holds the lonely mile-marker of a drinkable-city never a conversation without thinking I don’t miss what I can’t remember the feeling behind the last time I saw you was the last time I wore the dress with the blue-flowers growing up behind the garage a little west of here a breeze through disassociated limbs and music I have loved I rub up against the world with my shoulders holding up my head in my own front-yard for some reason I’m afraid to go back into my house where nobody else is Houses Condemnation of anything THREEDIMENSIONAL climate is a barn of this picket outside noise from the closed-up window house burning cigars so I quit smoking & still write sentences to write better Tuesday’s thunder auxin a stammer without rain DANDELIONS grew up standing under the Sprinkler’s a windpipe my mother’s mouth of sorrow— “I don’t need this” is a flower leaked in The ATTIC space my bedroom is 2 byfour square route from the garage is a crank window a boy knocking around in a rhododendron PURPLES blackberries & 3 dead hornets room for 2 cars Milk DELIVERY approximately 11:30 on Monday June 8th sorrow— “contemplation is an island” —Monday June 8th woke up this way you’d on a walk with 2 birds & a fog HORN fifteen dog minutes Uncle Lee got locked out & sat on the porch whistling Sinatra walked among us & OVER OUR HEADs the Sun waxes like an amphetamine waxes the sink & the orange light in a square on the carpet from The WINDOW the WHOLE visible 3 cows outside & a PEG Beam to hold up the roof up America outside with clothespins Obstruction hot house tomatoes views of a slow migration closer to the lake a VISIONARY at the party put marbles in the hollow of a collarbone SYNTAXX on 95 north I was thinking of the looming Pattern SENSATION seemed to stretch a long Shape of a small ache innocuous yellowLINEcut Clearly between us. I have 12 dollars & one box of instant coffee or I am alone & unthirsty because of it the tractor is always where you left the boy sleeping in an old room with different colors & blankets same APPLE TREE outside the smallest ants get in through the screen my own terrible sinking EXISTENCE a boat load of caterpillars & sunburns on the lawns like the harmonicas are nostalgic for you calling you back to the BASEMENT with the flood LINE the paints & bicycle repair kit SEASON of a dog or a dream KEYED his name in the flesh in the table a voice SOUND in the wall SEEPS it’s familiar to you