poetry

Poem #742

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

the fat man has an eating disorder
late at night when no one else is awake
he takes a box of ice cream cones
a Dreyer’s slow-churned vanilla quart
he eats: 1, 2, 3
he pauses for a minute, he should stop
but the ice cream is going to melt
and he can’t keep his hands from moving
he eats: 4, 5, 6
sick and too full, he passes out

the next day: less than 1,000 calories
two weeks: less than 1,000 calories
he says,
“I can’t give myself an inch”
he’ll take a mile
8 lbs lost
he’s smiling and feeling proud
15 lbs lost
he’s finally in control

then, his legs move on their own
late at night for a week straight
the light of the refrigerator is ghostly on his skin
he pulls out an entire box of ice cream sandwiches
and takes them to his room
an entire pot of leftover spaghetti
a loaf of bread and package of Oscar Mayer bologna
he regrets immediately and passes out
-2 lbs lost

Poem #741 – to my future child

Video ~ ~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

we’re gonna eat green beans and gummy bears
splash in the watery mud after a rain
bundle up for a 20 hour drive to Alaska

I’m gonna tell you how electricity works
the reasons why a budget is necessary
the purpose of air bags and brakes

you’re gonna tell me why you like purple
about the ghost you saw in the middle of the night
how a kid in your class is always talking

we’re gonna giggle while we climb the tree in the yard
argue about the choice of your sock colors
scream as the roller coaster drops

I’m gonna learn how to be patient when you don’t understand
that children are much messier than I thought
why “skinny jeans are so last generation”

you’re gonna learn how to be patient when I don’t understand
when to speak up about what you need
that most things aren’t the end of the world

we’re gonna squeeze each other until someone shouts “uncle”
be equally terrified as you learn to drive
love each other

Poem #740

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

we started clubs
to feel like we were a part of something
we wanted to be liked
to feel like our contributions of existence were worthwhile
we excluded others
to feel like we were valuable

Poem #735

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

lesbians scream
it is a fact — well-known — that dead mice are shriek-worthy creatures that should be handled with the utmost care, especially when shaking them free from the predatory jaws of a teenage kitten only to fall on a foot, after splitting a lip reaching under the table for said kitten

Poem #733

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

she lives in the woods
you wouldn’t think so
seeing her in the suit
but when the clock strikes five,
she is wild.

her hair golden among the green
a forest nymph or perhaps a fox
she runs barefooted
the ground is hard,
but her feet are harder.

the air is cold and it burns her throat
the cold electrifies her
she screams with life
until late in the night,
she lies among the dirt and leaves.

before the sun is up
she is up
she washes in the stream
donning her suit once again,
she is society.