Poem

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Robin Richardson

Arc 82 is in stores and on magazine stands now. Pick up an issue for great poetry and a review by Robin Richardson on Susan Holbrook.



Eventuality

 

Someone’s buried in the rubble of a burlesque hall

fallen after two tectonic plates bumped uglies.

Couldn’t wait another epoch for new monsters

just like us but softer. Somewhere else your best friend’s

 

bending over for a man who makes believing hot.

Five times she watches as he bows. He pits his faith

against her love. It’s not enough. She leaks it

everywhere they go, that love. She soaks her clothes,

 

color-blocked, wrung out on the sidewalk. Sure

she knows about calderas long past due, nukes

in North Korea aimed like loaded cocks. What offspring!

Still she’ll build things: children stacked up on the shore

 

all sand and time. The tide abiding plays its rising

like a quiet execution. Shhh, my sweet; don’t think

on after. Now we’re naked on the pullout, losing interest.

We’re no better than the rest.


 

Robin Richardson is the author of two collections of poetry, and is Editor-in-Chief at?Minola Review. Her work has appeared in Salon, Poetry Magazine, Hazlitt, Tin House, Partisan, Joyland, and The North American Review, among others. She holds an MFA in Writing from Sarah Lawrence College, and has been shortlisted for the CBC, Walrus, and Lemon Hound Poetry Prizes, among others. Richardson’s latest collection,?Sit How You Want,?is forthcoming with?Véhicule Press. Poems from the collection have been adapted to song by composer Andrew Staniland for The Brooklyn Art Song Society. Richardson’s memoir?Like Father?is forthcoming.

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