3 Short Poems


BJ Smith


How does one live in the reeds

When the water opposite

Evokes such depth?

Had I been less buoyant

You never would have seen

My pain and I in turn

Would never have become

The fixation of yours



Each morning you strap on a series

Of nesting paper-mache masks

And a 10 inch dildo to tighten

The strings lacing my wings

I only really fly when you fuck me

Otherwise I’m spitefully mammalian



I will always remember you

Smuggling poems into

Monochrome notebooks

In the coffee shop on 3rd

My fingertips full of things

I might have written

But never dared too

My heart sewn with neon threads

To spare me the humiliation

Of full-scale invisibility