Everix Machan

Poetry, when our hometown burns, we stop to rest at a hotel off of i-94

i’d like to let the time slip away like shifting curtains
settle in my lungs like sand sinking through seawater
but shutters won’t block lightning splicing the night
into thirds like a peeled lime, stinging in sagging eyes

often her leaden footfalls trace the hallway rug
mid-afternoon, pacing between emergency exits
like an escape plan could swallow the blind
swaying noose of an impending apocalypse

i am so fucking tired of doomsday preparation
when would there be time to document catastrophe?
you say my poetry can be too dissonant, too blunt
leaking obvious metaphors and cliché into the floor

as if i do not black-out alternating thoughts
there are only so many words to describe pain
lodging like gum, squeaking between bones
or do you want me to describe it like ash falling?

you are asking me to write my own obituary;
god forbid i leave something up for revision
god forbid i romanticize my slow agonizing waste
god forbid my prey drive isn’t asymptomatic

and so in the late-night eye of the storm surge
my browbone nests between her shoulder blades
billboards looming like god outside bolted windows
wound spring twitching, i'm a satellite with a pulse

Bio: Everix Machan (he/him) is a queer, transgender, and autistic undergraduate poet from Wisconsin. He often writes about angels and godliness, body horror, and times of transition. Otherwise, he spends his time doing research, reading, and finding excuses to perform. You can find his poetry published or forthcoming in None of the Above, DYONYZINE, Flowermouth Press, and The Gentian.