She Sings to Desyrel & Other Poems

By Christine Brandel

SHE SINGS TO DESYREL

O Desyrel, you small white answer!

She’s such a mouse, the pill is half her size,
but you’re the one she reaches for when that water
is dropping from her hair and there are holes in her hands.

That sour, empty pit of a stomach
just longs for that circle of pow(d)er —
that medicine that promises not to cure.

She starts out with just a sliver,
but only bones poke through.
When it is one and a half, the nausea
rises like serenity and sets her down.
A curious sort of asleep.

O Desyrel, you bring everything the opposite of true.

This is precisely why
she puts you inside
and bends her head
to spill out.


The Nestling

Come home with me
and be my baby: our son.
I will watch you sleep
and diary all your sounds.
We’ll color pictures in the afternoons,
slide down the stairs on our stomachs.
When Daddy comes home,
we’ll show him what we’ve done
unless you’d like to keep
some of it
a secret.


Cotton Wool

Many types
of blood
are shed
on a
monthly basis.
We bled.

Christine Brandel

Christine Brandel is a writer and photographer. Her book A Wife is a Hope Chest will appear in 2017 as the first full-length collection in the Mineral Point Poery Series from Brain Mill Press. She also writes a column on comedy for PopMatters and rights the world’s wrongs via her character Agatha Whitt-Wellington (Miss) at Everyone Needs An Algonquin. More of her work can be found at clbwrites.com. Follow her on Twitter @clbwrites.
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