Two Poems

by Shawn Misener

Bread Sweaters

Grandma made us bread sweaters for Christmas
Grandpa built us a giant toaster

There were five of us
now there are three

We sat around the ocean table
and ate eyes on ham

We spoke in a weird tribal rhythm
while pounding our forks on the table

Uncle John dug out his antique wooden saxophone
and played the Jitterbug Waltz

Aunt Mona built a French horn
from toothpicks and the hair of Magritte the dog

Mom and Dad vanished just before midnight
Sister asked the sofa cushions if it was not magic

Baby walked in dragging her placenta blanket
and honed in on the ham
“This?” she asked. “Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!”
but none of us knew the answer to her question

Apoca-Lips

The Rapture comes and goes unannounced
in carbonated soda bubbles spicing the air.

PPPPHHHHHPPPPHHHWWW

Cities don’t matter anymore. Only light matters.

We’re all alive but there is death everywhere.
It’s all over us like a stink.

The loudspeaker says
we are birthed in rhythm with death.
Your heart is the backbeat.

This is sweet knowledge.
Sweet runny wisdom,
dirty like VHS porn.

Truth is slippery,
it can’t be held.

SHAWN MISENER IS THE AUTHOR OF TWO CHAPBOOKS: DRY HUMPING A FIRE HYDRANT (THUNDERCLAP PRESS) AND IN YOUR FACE(BOOK) (TEN PAGES PRESS). OVER 150 OF HIS POEMS AND SHORT STORIES HAVE APPEARED IN PRINT AND ON THE WEB, INCLUDING THE NERVOUS BREAKDOWN, HAGGARD AND HALLOO, WORD RIOT, DECOMP, MAD RUSH, ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE, RED FEZ, FULL OF CROW, GUTTER ELOQUENCE, RUSTY TRUCK, AMONGST OTHERS. HE ALSO EDITS THE ABSURDIST POETRY BLOGAZINE CLUTCHING AT STRAWS, WHICH HAS FEATURED OVER 500 POEMS BY MORE THAN 250 DIFFERENT WRITERS. HE LIVES IN MICHIGAN WITH HIS WIFE AND THREE DAUGHTERS, AND IS CURRENTLY RUSHING TO FINISH HIS FIRST NOVEL, THE WHOOSHAY
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