Three Poems by Kameryn Alexa Carter
Commodity Fetish
They put me under
the wire and danger
comes like water
from a comet. I am
sprinting at the top
of my lungs. Soon
my teeth will be sold
in an online shop
called Whatsoever
ThingsAreLovely—
nestled inside
the velvet mouth
of a faux Fabergé
egg. I checked
YES at intake.
I answered
the questions
earnestly.
I wrote, It is
not natural
to hold anything
at the neck. Even
a shot spruce grouse
writhing in the dirt.
The interviewer asks
how it feels to know
I will soon die
of consumption.
I am sprinting
for my life.
Still Life
Outside, I might have had teeth. I might have been an antelope or the lion which devours it. I might have been an infant, latching. Inside I am a creature in a silk blouse: cockscomb mane on edge, bearing my empty mouth like a bloody, hollowed pomegranate. I wake beclouded by bloodlust—anachronism antedomestic. So often I wake with my arms clutching my arms. Inside is wicked, elastic—everything a trick of the intellect, of the iris. When I can grin and bear it, I behold my own grotesque face in the mirror. Are you there? The antelope bids. I’m here.
Cri de coeur
My hair-bower hides a .22
No—I am bald and keep
forgetting
Less hair lately
More and more middle
less cupboards and more
parabolas
on which to bounce crying
babies on which to frère
jacques myself to sleep
At four I shoved the play
thermometer under my arm
and pronounced myself ill,
At twenty-two all my selves
say thank you.
I clap. I am so happy.
I am so sick. Every year alive
much cake. My skirttails
ring round me saturnalia
and I will sonnez les matines
and pray, unbosom my warm
pistols as I dance, summon
the first hours with shots,
bells clanging thank you
thank you thank you
thank you thank you
thank you thank you
About the Author
Kameryn Alexa Carter (she/her) is a Black poet and assemblagist. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Puerto del Sol, phoebe, Spoon River Poetry Review, LETTERS, and Bennington Review.
Image: John Fowler: Comet NEOWISE, 2020 (CC)
