HOOK
Hilary Sideris
What
is this bent
device
that tows us
toward
each other,
sickle meant
to dig in,
drag, suspend,
too catchy
tune we hate
but hum?
FLAKE
Downy little
piece of fluff,
he thought
of his last fling,
his sweet white
fish, his breakfast
dish, fresh coat
of paint. What
part of love is
fear of breaking
off? Of being
flicked away?
ANTIQUES ROAD SHOW
Filing my e-form,
I bypass Alabama, Arkansas,
scroll down, wincing in wrist
pain to New York. I howl
my nasal midwest Wow,
the cuckoo clock worth more
than my credulity. Awesome.
At least my streets are deep
in chanters, circles drawn
around that crossed-out,
porcine face. At least
I don’t live there.
Hilary Sideris has recently published poems in Flock, The Lake, Rhino, and Salamander. She is the author of Most Likely to Die (Poets Wear Prada 2014) and The Inclination to Make Waves (Big Wonderful 2016). A new collection, Un Amore Veloce, will be published by Kelsay Books in 2019. Her website is hilarysiderispoetry.com