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losing grip by Michael Russell

By League of Canadian Poets | February 27, 2023

Poem title: losing grip
Poet name: Michael Russell
Poem: // hold // the way you looked at me / the first time / i dressed / vegetarian sushi with ginger / how peculiar / i tore / the pink tendon / into pickled confetti / tossed it / on top each careful roll / first you judged / then / curious & amazed / you implode with laughter / mikey! / what the heck / are you doing? / why!

this is not the poem
i dreamt of writing
love, you shrink
like meat
in the mouth of an oven
fats crackle & spark,
the good smell
of bone / muscle
spiked with garlic,
lemon, salt. boyfriend,
you bathe in the juice
of the unfamiliar. tell me,

your flesh is more /
than seasoned carcass

// hold // michael / tries to stab / laurie strode / again / the romance / of a halloween slasher / dark movie / theater / carved pumpkin / of my heart / i recall the minute / the subway shot / through yorkdale station / the gust / then gale of words / flutter / of orphan leaf / soon-to-be boyfriend / autumn red & longing / for my arms /

i wouldn’t be losing
grip if your throat
hadn’t bloomed a war
song, if you didn’t
draft yourself to fight
love, it’s funny
when you’re thrown
against the ugly beast
of betrayal, you costume
a pacifist. i can’t hear
you’re tired when i guard
& guard your eyes, hope
they don’t wander
into virtual fields
where men are common
dandelions / pluck /
you’re not allowed
to withdraw, vacation
on some proverbial beach
when i’m carrying the mammoth
of our weight, desperate
& reaching for you

// hold //

a christmas stroll / through the neighborhood / sidewalks twinkle / the glow of incandescent
bulbs / smile / i’m dumb / with pleasure / winter halo / blaze of red / light warms your beard /
boyfriend / let us photograph this moment / i never want to ungrasp / the science of our love /

a lie can only be buried
so long, darling, you wrote
in a letter your desire
to build a life with me
yet passed yourself around
like a cheap antique,
every night
when you came home
i smelt the fingerprints
of other men
dust & smudge your skin

watch me

/ unfold like clean laundry /

watch me / try
to coddle the air /
clutch the air /
make solid / the air
/ hug / kiss / your lips /

/ i can’t \

\ i won’t /

End of poem.
Credits and bio: Copyright © Michael Russell
Michael Russell (he/they) is the author of chapbook Grindr Opera (Frog Hollow Press). He’s queer, has BPD, Bipolar Disorder and way too much anxiety. Their work has appeared in Arc Poetry Magazine, Contemporary Verse 2, SICK Magazine among other places. He lives in Toronto and thinks you’re fantabulous. Insta: @michael.russell.poet

Posted in Poetry Pause

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