Nicole Wilson
Not Being Able to Breathe, a Knot
Fingertip ripped open by loose staple
prong, blood on the contents
eyeglasses are
one bit mortality one bit recovery
or repair
we hike
we toast
and when a stranger's belongings
rested against me in a crowd, an inconsiderate weight,
I thought I got an insight into rage
as logical as it manifesting in the scoop
of a spoon
A comforter eventually gets ratty
and that in itself is a comfort,
everyone just making it up
draw on the page a symbol of location:
draw on the page a symbol of toxicity:
draw on the page a symbol of wealth:
My father was once surprised
I knew how to operate
a thermostat
a bottle
a reminder to breathe
we recite the Lord's Prayer
but his lord isn't mine
and my lord isn't yours
so the recitation goes outmoded
or extinct
invite a friend to lunch as a sign of optimism
I don't care to have the technological
capability what's better
for the environment
is the opposite of a knot,
a plum staying purple
Bought a glaze for nailpolish chipped off
a clutch
donut pasteurized
wrinkle in tar
GO FORTH
instructed bold font across the face
of the pants commercial
we constructed a flower garden
of violets and arms
to eat again
again we sit
in cubicle for a piece
unwrap the rose
scented candle
It's Taking Practice
A potato is a portrait
in which to mouth
in which to take pleasure
in mashing a fork
we ordered the full tea service
we ordered an upgrade
outside the animal-patterned
plush restaurant interior
what am I forgetting?
it's a having-a-smart-phone feeling
steam floating up
around the stovetop vegetables
going soft & pliable
envious of the childless
some are furious
& never wear a ballcap
Nicole Wilson is the author of the chapbook Amazing Face (Phantom Limb Press) and the forthcoming collection Supper & Repair Kit (The Lettered Streets Press). A graduate of the MFA Poetry Program at Columbia College Chicago, she lives and teaches in Ohio.