Some Do

By MATT SALYER

Check me on fleek like the night
kitchen mothers, pucker and hum some; come,
I like to liquor louche; let’s watch the flock
of spring-heeled bound as borough cabs
exhaust their carbon phantoms like a gauche
of fuck. Do you unzoo, unrouge
to rat as white, what roughshod? Do.
I want the carnal as straight metacognition,
our sexes matted like the primitive hardwire
of teleological automata,
arguing my provenance against
the famous world of time; priming
the nether, I knee-jerk the genuflections
of penetration, a justified machine. Grind
the gear-work, make you wonder whether,
want. I could watch you till the kingdom comes.

MATT SALYER is a Pushcart-nominated writer and assistant professor at West Point. His work has appeared in Massachusetts Review, Poetry Northwest, Narrative, The Common, Beloit Poetry Journal, New Orleans Review, Hunger Mountain, and other publications. He was a semifinalist for the Brittingham and Pollak Prizes in Poetry in 2016, and a finalist for The Iowa Review Award in 2016 and 2017. His first poetry collection, Ravage and Snare, is forthcoming in late 2017 from Pen and Anvil Press. A cultural history of the British Empire, As We Was Kings, is on contract for 2018 publication.

 

[Purchase Issue 14 here.]

Some Do

Related Posts

Dispatches from Mullai Nilam, Marutha Nilam, and Neithal Nilam

VIJAYALAKSHMI
There is fire everywhere, / both inside and outside. / Unaware of the intensity of the fire, / they maintain silence / like the serenity of a corpse. / From the burning fire / bursts out a waterfall tainted in red. / All over the shores have bloomed / the flaming lilies of motherhood.

Gray Davidson Carroll's headshot next to the cover of The Common Issue 28.

Podcast: Gray Davidson Carroll on “Silent Spring”

GRAY DAVIDSON CARROLL
Poet Gray Davidson Carroll speaks to managing editor Emily Everett about their poem “Silent Spring,” which appears in The Common’s fall issue. Gray talks about poetry as a way to witness and observe the world and how we experience it, and how it’s changing.

February 2025 Poetry Feature: New Poems by Our Contributors

MARC VINCENZ
Oh, you genius, you beehive, / you spark, you contiguous line— / all from the same place of origin // where there is no breeze. // All those questions posed … / take no notice, the image / is stamped on your brow, even // as you glare in the mirror, // as the others are orbiting