When the power went out while at a party, I thought I saw my girlfriend kiss my bestie, and that I could tell by the dark outline of her body that she was enjoying pulling a fast one. It made me sick inside to think that she could be enjoying such a thing, like being a survivor hiding out in a bombed town and watching through a crack in a wall the enemy line innocent kids up in the street and shoot them for being a disease. I felt so dirty and wrong inside, guilty in fact, but I hadn’t done anything. The next day after work when I asked her if she’d cheated on me, she denied everything and asked me to leave for thinking so little of her. “It’s not that I think so little of you, it’s that I think so highly of you and want to understand how you’ve been possessed by a tyrannical femme-fatale shadow I’m pissed off with but can probably learn from” I said. Uh-oh. Her face changed. “He kisses way better than you,” she said. “How much better?” I said. “Like he does it for his job,” she said. “That good huh,” I said. “Better than that, actually. It was like I was being penetrated by a snake god while under a hypnotic levitation spell you never want to come down from,” she said. “A different reality, a release,” I said. “Totally, she said. “I see what you mean,” I said. “Thanks for being so understanding,” she said. “You know me,” I said. “You’re the best,” she said. Then she planted one on me. “Now get out please. The snake god is coming over.” “That was fast,” I said. “Like liquid lightning,” she said. “Well, far be it from me to get in the way of liquid lightning,” I said.
Published by Chris Russell
Hi, I'm Chris, and thank you so much reader for visiting my blog and wanting to learn a little bit about me. I know time is a hot commodity these days, more so now than ever I think, which is why it’s my hope that you make it a priority to read my poems under some low light when you have some time on your hands and can really read and reread them closely and experience something shining in them. It’s my sincerest hope that they make you want to look at yourself, your world, and poetry itself a little differently, while they also encourage you to be more kind and gentle with yourself and others. I know when I read a poem, regardless of its subject, I expect to feel asked in and touched by its speaker. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn’t. That’s the way it goes, right? It would be great though if some of these poems brushed against you. As for when I write, it’s always my intention to lift and exteriorize more understandably complex emotions and states of consciousness I’m currently experiencing, and it's usually through an analysis and highly conscious reframing of my childhood that this happens, though I’ve been known to veer into writing surreal-like absurdism and allegorical prose poetry when the wind splits me that way. Where am I on the planet? This MFA in Writing fossil with an ever expanding Dad bod now lives and works in Concord, New Hampshire where I currently divide much of my time between writing, blogging, assisting middle school students who have special needs, and navigating the journey that is my own really unimpressive, but no less valuable dark night. From my own cave in the wilderness, I’d like to say thanks again for stopping by and spending some of your invaluable time. I invite you to please put your feet up and subscribe for a while, and if you’re feeling moved by one of my poems please share it with a dear friend, preferably someone who doesn’t like poetry. View all posts by Chris Russell