Smoking Bag by: Dwan Davey, Ceramics, 2015.
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Sorry I Didn’t Call Back
by: Celina Smythe
I dialed your cell
And as the familiar tone of
High pitched ringing
Broke the arid silence,
I played through all of my
Confessions for you.
That I had realized I was wrong-
That after month after month of
Sweaty, unsatisfying, worthless trysts with
Faceless, nameless, unimportant bodies-
I knew that you were worth
More than the glistening
Blue of the Smithsonian Hope-
That I required you more basely than
Oxygen, Nitrogen, Hydrogen and Carbon-
That the curve of my hips and square of my jaw
Fit no cupped palm, nor lengthy finger-branches
Better than yours-
That I had reached the stabbing- deadly-
Acceptance- that you were Everything-
Like scraping, cracked nails, tearing against
The spongy, weak, fleshy walls of my insides-
And that only you-
Only ever you-
Were worth the wait.
I would do just.
If it was what you needed,
I would wait
Until the Earth and Humanity and
every vision to ever bring happiness
to any heartbroken lover
Crumbled back into the chaos and the stardust
it was birthed from-
As our world distorted and decayed and deteriorated
Into hour glass powder to be blown between the
Meager cracks within the tightly woven Universe-
Only if given the promise
That you would be with me
To hold my hands with your hands-
To caress my lips with your lips-
And to match my steady breaths with
those from your lungs
As we finally watched our everything dissipate
back into the ether.
I would wait.
But you didn’t answer
And I have voicemail anxiety
So I just hung up.
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