Six Poems

By Bernadette Bowen

 

WE ARE ALL SURFACES IN THE ENVIRUSMENT

My love
Hangs around
Like mold.

I Infiltrate
Your porous
Wood

Sink into
Your
Remembrains.

—-

Don’t
Mind me…

…Just evading

Lapses to
Rid your
Infrastructure
Of me;

Fortifying
Myself
—Stronger
Than ever
Inside You.

—-

I am the
Twenty-percent
That know
How to
Survive

Your vinegar.

—-

Undetected
I cunningly curb
Your interest

Til you’re

Cupping at
The seems.

—-

Curve for me.

Show me
How
Your heat

That
Grows me

Cannot
Contain
Itself there

Inside your
Surfaces.

—-

Allow me
To snake
Through
your veins

Like water;

Weaving
Through
Your textures,

Tainting Your
Would boreds,

Inking them
With life.

—-

Isn’t it
All So
Exhilarating—

—How Even
My most
Toxic
Release of
Spores

beats
The drone
Of your

Tidy
Polished
Home. 

 

I HAVE BEEN WADING

On the
Ocean of
Missing you
For So Long,

I’m getting
Scurvy
Over here.

—-

I have the
Cabin Fever of
Missing you.

—-

The Creatures
Of us

Live on in the
Deepest parts
Of my memorseas.

Not a day
Goes by

I don’t
Hold my breath
To Dive back in
And pull them out;

Basking them
in the sun
Of mynd’s surface.

—-

Our sea monsters
Shine brightly when
Allowed in daylight.

—-

I’m keeping
The map;

Charting course
To our
Buried treasures.

I haven’t
Forgotten
Where
X marked

Our spots———-
—So Many Times.

 

BALDILOCKS BUMBLER VIRTUOSO

Watch me
Blow thought
Bubbles into our
Re-space-o-ship.

—-

Since You Shut
Your Electricity off,

The pixels of me
Still spend all their

Tokens and free time
Grinding, Bouncing, &
Reflecting in Our lights.

—-

A play palace
Despised, I

~backstroke~in the
____ball pit____Full
———Of our gazes
——into each other.

—-

Though you stopped
Paying admission,

The bare moments
of us—-Still Dance

|||Encased||| in their
<<<<Abandoned>>>>
<<<<Theme Park>>>>

[Turns out,

This space was
Always
self-sufficient].

The show
Must Go On.

 

I'M HERE TO(O)

Fetishize
The face.

Face it,

I do not
Miss
Any

-But
Yours.

Take off
That mask

Slowly
For me.

No need
To be Shy
Or coy,

I know
What’s under
There.

I’ve seen it
All
Before.

Show me
Again

How you
You.

It’s been
So long

Since
Anyone
Worth
Looking
At

Has Looked
At me

Physically,

Viscerally,

in My
Direction.

—-

Before our 

Total Dark

I mourned
Our sight loss

Like
I had

My childhood,
Dog.

I knew
We
Were going,

So I
read books

In place
Of
Your face

To Supplant
Our Deterioration.

I Wrapped myself
In The Comfort
Of fiction,

Between covers
and frayed spines.

Shipping
Is delayed

On shared
smirks

In the
Unfor-see-me-able
Future.

In this
Envirusment,

We are

Flesh and
[Thus,]
Fresh Out

of
Knowing
Glances.

I see now,

There is no way
To Properly grieve
the Relishment

of your
Idiosyncrasies,

As we are,

Relegated 

To only
A Past-time.

 

YOU WERE NOT ROUTINE DENTAL WORK

The worst Part
of losing you
is that _________
___________
_____________.

—-

Not some
Superficial filling
I could replace.

You were that
Real enamel Deal.

—-

Over the years,
I’d developed
Quite the sweet
Tooth; taking
Bigger Bites than
I Could chew.

—-

I ached from
Your erosion
For Months;

Numbing myself
Preemptively
For Your extraction.

—-

You Didn’t
leave a
minor cavity.

I required
A full-blown
root canal.

My nerves laid raw in
the deepest parts of
me from your loss.

—-

You were ripped
from my mouth
and placed back
into that of another.

I have
No right
to be sad

Only sad writes;
Gumming at
Our leftovers.

 

THE BABY

Words in
My brain
Are crying
Out of me.

They say
It’s time
For them

To be
Birthed
Out from
My Mental
Holes &

Into the
—World.

—-

Words
Have no
Need for

Sucking
Their
Thumbs

To self-
Soothe.

They
Are the
Food &
The Shit,

& We—-Are
The Worms.

Bowen

Bernadette Bowen is a published poet and PhD candidate in the School of Media and Communication at Bowling Green State University. Her interests intersect the broad fields of critical and feminist theories, with an eye towards the ideological struggle between institutions, gender, sexuality, and media ecology.