losing grip by Michael Russell

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