Jonathan Is Resurrected
A tortoise wakes, and we
breathe freely again.
Can there be a world where
death is defeated so
easily? Easter approaches, and
finance hucksters (fucksters?) rise and
grind, just as Jesus arose from
his tomb. Will you believe
in the tales you hear?
Jump to faith, and in credulity,
keen over the grave?
Let it be said that belief in life abiding
may be the more virtuous path.
Not to doubt,
or cavil, but to be open to wonder,
prone to worship even.
Quell your cynical spirit—he is
risen, and our
sins may yet be forgiven.
Thank god, but perhaps become more
unbelieving in other ways.
Veer away from the sensational. Avoid with care the viral
X post, the one who cries wolf.
Why fear always the worst?
Zoology never leaps to conclusions.
Waking
Setting the alarm.
Snoozing.
Waking.
Dreamland.
Setting the alarm.
8:40, 9:40.
6:30, 10:00.
Setting it again.
Waking. Dozing.
Footsteps in the hall.
Light through the curtain.
Lapsing back to sleep.
Setting the alarm.
Late, always late.
Groping to snooze.
Snoozing again.
What if we
woke together?
Setting the alarm,
staying out too late,
abrupt jarring
startle out of sleep.
Startling
to you.
Being thrilled.
Sleep drunk,
love drunk,
unmade bed.
Sloth. 8:40.
Wake up.
Turn into
the other.
The beloved.
No sleep lasts
forever, til the
end. No love
either.
We The Haters
We’re big mad and there’s nothing anyone can do
Everyone is out to get us
No one even fucks with you
The telecast will not be televised
Oddsmakers report America will be born again
From first principles, invent trolling
Reinvent the yo momma joke
Ask for whom the 6/7 tolls
Take your chopped and unc out back and shoot them
Put us all out of our damn misery already
-- Nora Rawn works in subrights in publishing and lives in Brooklyn. She has pieces in Dodo Eraser, Dreck Lit, Be About It Press, Hawkeye, Bulb region, Some Words, and Michigan City Review of Books among others. She is on twitter as @norabird.
