Two Poems by Alan May



Bon Voyage

At this very moment, little black shoes
are walking out of the river onto shore.

So I climb the barge’s ladder to the deck
and lay on the starboard planks and feel

at peace with the flagrant sun. I dream
of a dead friend’s garden. First,

the box of matches, then the fire rising
like a bright hydrangea in the yard.

White sparks blooming on the edges
next to the Chinese tallow. I would like

to stay here longer. I drag the barge
through the field and leave it next

to the dilapidated barn. The cows
tap, gleefully, their leathery hooves.

I walk to Little Rock, Arkansas.
Buy a hotdog with mustard, with relish,

with aplomb. In one narrow alleyway,
two teachers are sawing a little girl in half

so they can put her back together again.
I stare in dismay. Such a long journey

to the littered courtyard outside the schoolhouse.
The bells toll. Is this the end of it all?

Light falling through the wrought iron fleur-de-lis
onto my dirty shoes. The wooden bench.

The crumbling gray and brown façade
of the emptied evangelical church.


*


Everyday Monster


The steel machete in your paw,

deer running scared across the lawn,

across the park toward that magenta


horizon. Couples dance to a love song

from some other era. I suggest 

you lay low, play it cool. In each toy house 


hangs a loaded AR-15. For each street 

on this grid, some minor disaster awaits.

Some might mistake you for a hoax.


Others might want to dress you in a bowtie.

I see you, lank and lonely. My ears prick 

and swivel. My whiskers twitch. The family


has bedded down in an abandoned car.

No one fears the new war, though some kid

slips out into the night to hang a black flag.


There are rodents to fill the belly.

Little clumps of trees off the interstate.

A small creek for water. Little pools


of bright sky where you can gaze

into the eyes, a little too lost, a little

too lethal, for such a fine beast.



Alan May has published three books of poetry. He holds an MFA in creative writing from the University of Alabama. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in New Orleans Review, The Hollins Critic, The New York Quarterly, The Idaho Review, DIAGRAM, Appalachian Places, Plume, The Hong Kong Review, and others. He works as a librarian, and he hosts a poetry podcast called The Beat.



home           return to poetry