Ace Boggess
Unemployed
My short rap sheet says stay home,
hide out in quiet labor. I do,
wonder if a job exists to reframe my past.
Last time, I tried cold calls—
three days, one sale, not enough to keep me on.
Before, I made a decent jailhouse lawyer.
Freedom has consequences
like finding money to fix a car
that should be shot, put down, eased to rest
in silence like when no one’s on the line
to whisper, I love what you did
with your emptiness.
My short rap sheet says stay home,
hide out in quiet labor. I do,
wonder if a job exists to reframe my past.
Last time, I tried cold calls—
three days, one sale, not enough to keep me on.
Before, I made a decent jailhouse lawyer.
Freedom has consequences
like finding money to fix a car
that should be shot, put down, eased to rest
in silence like when no one’s on the line
to whisper, I love what you did
with your emptiness.
We Need a New Freedom
We discuss feeling trapped by circumstances:
her working a dead-end job, my failing to find one
beyond the fragile art between blue lines.
She thinks we’re like peacocks at the zoo: not caged,
but where would they go, what larger world
might they explore outside their squawking circles
of home confinement? I believe I can do more.
I’m watching YouTube videos
on how to replace doorknobs or change the guts on toilet tanks,
things I should’ve learned as a child,
along with how to check the coolant in my car,
build a shelf, fry eggs, survive.
I was always short-term practical about domestic scholarship:
it took time that slowed projects,
prevented me from running fingers
down the cool, smooth pages of books.
If I’m trapped as she says, it’s by inexperience,
my history. I’d like to loosen those chains,
heavy & looped around my waist.
I don’t even know if keys exist
to all the locks that bind me to this place.
We discuss feeling trapped by circumstances:
her working a dead-end job, my failing to find one
beyond the fragile art between blue lines.
She thinks we’re like peacocks at the zoo: not caged,
but where would they go, what larger world
might they explore outside their squawking circles
of home confinement? I believe I can do more.
I’m watching YouTube videos
on how to replace doorknobs or change the guts on toilet tanks,
things I should’ve learned as a child,
along with how to check the coolant in my car,
build a shelf, fry eggs, survive.
I was always short-term practical about domestic scholarship:
it took time that slowed projects,
prevented me from running fingers
down the cool, smooth pages of books.
If I’m trapped as she says, it’s by inexperience,
my history. I’d like to loosen those chains,
heavy & looped around my waist.
I don’t even know if keys exist
to all the locks that bind me to this place.
After the Air Settles
Debris-speckled lawn from last night’s wind,
fifty-mph gusts. A limb
the size of a ceremonial cannon
aims across the hedge.
Holes in the ground have holes in them
from sticks that struck at angles,
verdant leaves rising like freshly-planted shrubs.
In darkness, upper branches danced at a rave
to the monotone yawp.
Clean-up’s next as if to remove empty beer bottles,
stinking puddles, broken hearts.
To walk among graves of the recent past
is to mourn oneself, the closeness.
Damage or disaster—what’s the difference?
Debris-speckled lawn from last night’s wind,
fifty-mph gusts. A limb
the size of a ceremonial cannon
aims across the hedge.
Holes in the ground have holes in them
from sticks that struck at angles,
verdant leaves rising like freshly-planted shrubs.
In darkness, upper branches danced at a rave
to the monotone yawp.
Clean-up’s next as if to remove empty beer bottles,
stinking puddles, broken hearts.
To walk among graves of the recent past
is to mourn oneself, the closeness.
Damage or disaster—what’s the difference?