|||

Poetry by Jordan Blanchard

Saturnian Hunger

do not speak to me
say your grace
put your elbows on the table
smack with all sides of your mouth
allow your lips to grow slack
    after sucking out the marrow

pick bits of viscera out of your canines
    with the cracked bones
swallow your dinner’s pride and
consider the savory
lick the inside of your cheek

caught up in gourmandizing
bite your tongue
mix all the blood together and
crave metal
    your mouth a ravenous cradle
toss the sinew but
allow the fat to melt on the tongue

hum a lullaby and rub your belly
to better digest

body is not a real thing it is

waves parting a briny, petulant tide
a hole punched in a polaroid picture
lightning rods in the knot of an oak tree
stone tying the blind river to its course
amorphous piles of sinew and fat
bones made slack over time hearing voices
dearly departed delta sediment
a bottle of whoops and roars untethered
sandbags awaiting precious floodwater
a towering cumulus prone to sink
prince rupert’s drop and a pair of pliers
something categorically petrified

but still the body fettered to green earth
must find time to be none of these and real

Instructions for Beginning Again After Mental Ruin

Wait for honey to drop from the cumulus-ridden skies,
but don’t dwell on cavities. Instead pull the whole tooth.
Keep pulling until there is nothing but gums and craters.
Learn to photosynthesize when your mouth is empty.
Grow new teeth, gorge yourself on murk-dwellers.
Thank your mother for not making you hardheaded
as the crucifix fish. Sing for your grandmother but
only from the belly, don’t wail, don’t dig your toes into the dirt,
don’t weep over her grave and hope for lavender to grow.
Where are you going? Your teeth are looking for you.
They’re tired of you reciting pleas mush-mouthed.
Rearrange their order, see how they get along. Laugh
disgustingly at ghosts and try to hold in your teeth.
Accept a banshee knock at midnight. When she screams,
realize that it is your own voice, snatched up when unguarded
by the molars. Bargain your own words.
Agree to keep them to yourself. Cross your heart over
and over until it is a heap of mince. Become your grandmother.
Swallow your teeth. Count the bones in your head. Begin again.

Jordan Blanchard

IG: @yourunclecozy

Up next "Targeted ads" by Lin Elizabeth Why Bandcamp Matters [Anything for a Weird Life]
Latest posts Two Poems by Alex Osman NOTICE ME, SENPAI (GOD) by J. Robert Andrews THE MAKING OF KUBRICK'S 2001, BY JEROME AGEL by Sarp Sozdinler THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE BEATLES' NO L [Anything for a Weird Life] UNLIMITED REDEMPTION by Frances Ojeda-Diaz Three Poems by Tim Frank LAST DITCH EFFORT by Grant Wamack PRISON by Steve Gergley IT'S NOT TOO LATE [Anything for a Weird Life] OCTOBER 16th 1793, 12:15PM by Madelyn Whelan REMEMBERING BIRTH by Caleb Bethea THE GENIUS IN LETTING IT FALL by Ryan Bender-Murphy BABY TEETH by Natalye Childress APRIL IS THE COOLEST MONTH [Anything for a Weird Life] LONG TIME LISTENER by Rob Kempton LUCID by nat raum Two poems by Pierre Minar MISSED CONNECTION by Will Ballard SCENE REPORT: GUNS N' ROSES WITH SKID ROW, 1991 [Anything for a Weird Life] Three poems by Chris Mason NO INVENTES by Julián Martinez Two poems by Marco Bauer REVIEW: MASSIVE by John Trefry HERE IN MY CAR by John Kidwell AN EVENING AT THE HOUSE OF CHIEFS [Anything for a Weird Life] Three poems by Bradley K Meyer HENRY MILLER EATS AN ORANGE by Dani Shoemaker A NIGHT OF NEW WORKS [Film Dispatch] ORANGES by Damon Hubbs A LIFETIME OF STUBBED TOES by Anna MP ON THE PERILS AND PLEASURES OF THE ARCHIVE [Anything for a Weird Life]