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.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Some Do

Related Posts

A photograph of leaves and berries

Ode to Mitski 

WILLIAM FARGASON
while driving today     to pick up groceries / I drive over     the bridge where it would be  / so easy to drive     right off     the water  / a blanket to lay over     my head     its fevers  / I do want to live     most days     but today / I don’t     I could     let go of the wheel  

The Month When I Watch Joker Every Day

ERICA DAWSON
This is a fundamental memory. / The signs pointing to doing something right / and failing. Educated and I lost / my job. Bipolar and I cannot lose / my mind. The first responder says I’m safe. / Joaquin Phoenix is in the hospital. / I’m in my bedroom where I’ve tacked a sheet...

Image of glasses atop a black hat

Kaymoor, West Virginia

G. C. WALDREP
According to rule. The terrible safeguard / of the text when placed against the granite / ledge into which our industry inscribed / itself. We were prying choice from the jaws / of poverty, from the laws of poverty. / But what came out was exile.