Jennifer MacKenzie
Confessional poem
I’m eating sliced cheese and cucumbers
on a smudgy mattress with no sheetsMy nose isn’t patrician yet but lyric still
has dead fish for eyes. Gleam w/o consequencein the unnamable country where the lion lets more
of his apples get licked by his sacred liceCan you find the “secret police” in that line
and seven more tilt-a-whirl tokensThere is always this mechanism skimming language from strife
Licking sweat off his upper lip, the solder ______________.
2
in poems about deer the sea and a beaten child
dreamy accusation running down the cheap middleof nowhere motels doing Fuck-all, semi-
florid, flagrant Florida orange visitor Whatadvantage the eye can take
from vagrancy on the in-sweep ofits foamy tide language folded
a long time in the shallowsI mean what we have described, have we extorted