A Gift Horse

By TIMOTHY LIU

Her hands kept on
working their way

into my pants even

after the wedding
toast—the evening

merely an excuse

for a gift horse
crashing through

the stables of a barn

a midget had set
on fire, my mother

clothed in nothing

but safety matches
struck on her teeth

as she colored in

my moon with pieces
of broken chalk—

 

[Purchase Issue 12 here.]

Timothy Liu’s most recent book of poems is Don’t Go Back to Sleep. He met his husband-to-be while sprawled out drunk on Dickinson’s grave more than two decades back. And that has made all the difference.

 

A Gift Horse

Related Posts

Image of Jennifer Kellogg

George Seferis: Poetry in Translation from Greek

GEORGE SEFERIS
When I close my eyes, I find myself in an expansive darkness / the color of dawn; I sense it on your fingertips. / Forget the lie that helped you live. / Bare your feet, bare your eyes— / very few things remain when we've bared ourselves / but in the end we can see them exactly as they are.

Old ship at sunset

June 2020 Poetry Feature: David Mills

DAVID MILLS
When I’m cursing them tanners under / my breath’s breath, I speak Yankeyfied / Negro / English. Gathered bit of limping / French and Spanish on a voyage // to Cadiz; anchor jarring the sleepy / waters of Caleta. Beach pinched / between two castles.

ruckus

VAUGHN M. WATSON
a rotor spins in concentric circles / the epicenter a DC street at dusk / even a military helicopter’s incessant droning / can’t wake this country to its circumstance / locals peer through the gaps in their blinds / trying to see what all the ruckus is about