Poetry, Week 41: Jeffrey Hecker

 

Ode to Scorpios


when you proclaim we are your forever girlfriends and forever boyfriends time illegitimately

stops    why is your credit union password requiring us to withdraw plasma then press blood

onto swatches             fixed water sign eh                             so water cannot even be liquid

like liquid solid state we cannot shake           hear sloshing               never see ice crystals 

you frighten four horses of the Sun                plus seven infants at High’s Ice-Cream shop

you advertise Helios’s boy Phaethon The Moron via megaphone emphasizing both first

and last syllables         who begs daddy for chariot go work save up buy cheap jeep Mor/On

blared across high school lacrosse field 1.47 meters Danny DeVito insists DeVito is awesome

at sports pass DeVito the basketball                           fine to laugh with you yet at you no way      

receive “touché” messages all day     you protect entire villages without recognizing any

villagers names           your fossilized penis embeds in shale            deathstalker species

venom Lq2 so potent it blocks potassium      shrivels pancreases     Venus insists Mars

gave you to Pluto        FDA refuses to release antitoxin unless you agree to love America

 

Ode to Grief


multipurpose eucalyptus wipes inside Wegmans you tricked me into           staring at 840 seconds

I purchased Isabel Allende Barbie doll          keeping her in package                      you woke me 

sat me on sofa                         I am strong I did not sleep on sofa                 I went to bed after sofa          

you made me feel airstreams around my stagnant face you made                 you had cashier ask if

black licorice was for anyone special             not for me       I think I told her I was black licorice 

you got demon Aamon in woodpecker form named after botanist Thomas Nuttall to sublet

summer rest    you had me hop train I could have hijacked               I purchased Tokyo Jazz Club

print of cat playing piano to admire so I would not simply die         I talked to cucumber spider   

you altered my welcome mat from crimson we hope you brought wine to tannish hello to pale

blank no greeting        you convinced me drive to Lake Mead I got as far as signage turned          

back home entirely different state you forced me to assign students read The Grapes of Wrath     

started late May                                                                      I read that turtle chapter aloud


 

Jeffrey Hecker is author of Rumble Seat (San Francisco Bay Press, 2011) & chapbooks Hornbook (Horse Less Press, 2012), Instructions for the Orgy (Sunnyoutside Press, 2013) & Ark Aft (The Magnificent Field, 2020). Recent work appears in South Dakota Review and Bennington Review. A fourth-generation Kepanī via Hawaii, he teaches at The Muse Writers Center, reads for Quarterly West and Okay Donkey Magazine @heckheck03.bsky.social