Excerpt from PSALMS OF LAMENT FOR DIVINE IMPERATIVES

You are a what if. You are postage paid upon receipt.
When I look through binoculars I can see
the future isn’t a place      it’s a promise that you’ll break.
All the unwilling breathers     all the half-cocked
churn with       the unjustified
the underscored           the last of this or that animal.
You’re just trying to keep us guessing I guess.
You’re like a carol sung by politicians
in the weeks before an election.
It’s important to check your texts      to reply STOP
to the voices you don’t dream of.
When words become concrete can we eat them?
Mitosis   miniscule    investment    display.
How do you stand aside at a time
when so many people are sitting in windows
deciding whether they will     path bait sect?
Especially in this place           where guns
are as easy to lose as car keys.
I’ve spent too many nights     in a sequence
of barrels tossed over waterfalls.
I plan a getaway in stages.      First I will
get gas.            Then the aftermath.
What does anyone mean
when they say they are leaving?
There’s no       getting off this planet.
The moon is a spaceship.
The forests are harvesting.

Jennifer Metsker’s is the author of the poetry collection Hypergraphia and Other Failed Attempts at Paradise which won the Editor’s Prize from New Issues Press. Her poetry has appeared in many journals including The Southern Review, Rhino, Gulf Coast, Beloit, Cream City Review, and The Journal. She has also had poetry selected to be featured on Poetry Daily and Verse Daily. You can find her most recent publications in THE SHORE, After the Pause, Pigeon Pages and pioneertown. She lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan, where she is the Writing Coordinator at the Stamps School of Art and Design. She is always interested in creative collaborations and conversations, and you can find her contact information at her website: jennifermetsker.com.