Old Women
Riding in the limo with grandma and her sisters,
I listened as they filled the car with easy chatter.
Enrobed in navy blue, black
or other drama-tinted skirt suits
and Black Sunday hats,
they compared their pistols,
some with wooden handles,
others were all cold black metal,
a silver or marble-white, perhaps.
Their bags held their bullet powder secrets.
I listened as they filled the car with easy chatter.
Enrobed in navy blue, black
or other drama-tinted skirt suits
and Black Sunday hats,
they compared their pistols,
some with wooden handles,
others were all cold black metal,
a silver or marble-white, perhaps.
Their bags held their bullet powder secrets.
I was nine years old
and we were leading car loads
of people to God’s home
through sticky, thick mosquito Louisiana.
white-gloved women,
book-leather skinned women,
ready to defend,
even now.
When the car came to a halt in the grey gravel,
so did the casual talk of weaponry.
and we were leading car loads
of people to God’s home
through sticky, thick mosquito Louisiana.
white-gloved women,
book-leather skinned women,
ready to defend,
even now.
When the car came to a halt in the grey gravel,
so did the casual talk of weaponry.
Grandma reached into her loaded purse
and pulled out a white handkerchief.
Her romance novel hands took my warm palm,
and placed her tote on her shoulder.
and pulled out a white handkerchief.
Her romance novel hands took my warm palm,
and placed her tote on her shoulder.
She stepped into the church
to grandpa’s funeral,
who died of a heart attack.
to grandpa’s funeral,
who died of a heart attack.
Mail-Order Bride: Julie
His human-sized wooden package waited for him
in the empty corner of his loft.
she’s arrived! in all her glory,
packed in Styrofoam peanuts!
in the empty corner of his loft.
she’s arrived! in all her glory,
packed in Styrofoam peanuts!
Her profile:
I am excited you are concerned about me. I am lucky. I was married eight years ago. My ex-husband died on car accident. After, I was originally lonely. I would like to forget. I am looking for a man who believes in everything. Who a man that listens, watches a full moon. If you are interested in wanted to know more about me, we can whisper.
With love in his heart,
he grabbed a cro-bar, cracked open the box,
and out leaped a hundred singing grasshoppers.
he grabbed a cro-bar, cracked open the box,
and out leaped a hundred singing grasshoppers.
How We Sleep at Night
Our backs like canvases
face each other
as we tug at a blanket
just big enough for two
young and desperately cold bodies.
face each other
as we tug at a blanket
just big enough for two
young and desperately cold bodies.
The fan hums and clicks
above our heads.
The chill of the evening
numbs my exposed toes.
I sigh,
Oh, God.
He stirs:
above our heads.
The chill of the evening
numbs my exposed toes.
I sigh,
Oh, God.
He stirs:
What about God?
Nothing. Sleep.
Bionote
Nicholas Goodly is a graduate poetry student at Columbia University. He is the current art editor of Columbia Journal Online and writing editor of WUSSY Magazine . He has also been published in Anamesa Journal and Cactus Heart.
Nothing. Sleep.
Bionote
Nicholas Goodly is a graduate poetry student at Columbia University. He is the current art editor of Columbia Journal Online and writing editor of WUSSY Magazine . He has also been published in Anamesa Journal and Cactus Heart.