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I was in a constellation

There were several gravitational pulls

Ophiuchus grasped his serpent

And we were his alternate arms

Or it was. I’m iffy on the denominators

There were magnets on the refrigerator

I lettered four-letter words with

And all the other entities laughed alongside me

And spoke English

And there were frequent moments of levity

Like when I sucked on a joint in a patch of Swiss chard

Recalling my Halloween costumes from 2004-on

Forking apple pie filling in my mouth

The moral error in everything

Affiliated with what I was saying

Assuming clarity

And then a sheen

So as I was saying

At this point Johannes interrupted me

Upstairs, a child was crying

Something horrible was happening

We had to rush back inside

Patty Nash is a poet and translator. Her work has appeared in jubilat, West Branch, Bennington Review, and elsewhere. Patty received her MFA in poetry at the Iowa Writers' Workshop and an MFA in literary translation from the University of Iowa. She lives in Berlin, Germany, where she is a member of the poetry collective Das Ad Hoc.
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5 Jun 2023

Jackson sat at Kay’s bedside, one of her hands laid atop his, palm to palm, fingertips against the soft inside of her wrist. His fingers measured her temperature and pulse, her blood pressure, and her blood oxygen levels. She was no weaker or stronger today than yesterday. He was unsurprised and uneasy. Her vitals were regular with sleep. She had been resting when he returned from the shore.
You do not mean this as slang.
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