Up the Staircase Quarterly
  • Home
  • Nominations
  • About
  • Submit
  • Archives
  • Support
  • Home
  • Nominations
  • About
  • Submit
  • Archives
  • Support
Search
Picture
"Always With Me" by Jenn Ashton

Two poems by Hannah Nahar

Pantoum for the Mars Rover, Not Singing

The Mars Rover, Curiosity, sang happy birthday to itself only
once, back in August of 2013. I kept meaning to look up
how sound waves function. It turns out they require air particles in order
to carry the songs to our ears, and also atmospheric pressure.

Back up. In August of 2013 I was looking not for meaning
but for a psychologist. I wanted to learn about the operational definition of low self esteem.
Also about the atmosphere in my ears, the pressure to carry a song.
No more birthdays: apparently the engineers do not anthropomorphize their million dollar assets.

To the psychologist, the operational definition of low self-esteem appeared to be my wanting
to listen to Gentle Rain Ten Hours High Quality at night. Fake weather and inadequacy.
Do not anthropomorphize those engineers or their million dollar assets, she said.
It's literally an inanimate object why are you still crying.

At night, I'm weathering sweat and feeling low quality. No hour is gentle.
Picture Curiosity itself, each year, not happy or roving. Singing only a new tune,
la la la, not all objects are inanimate. Crying out for literally no one to hear.
Consider how sound waves must function in a particular order, and like me, require air.
I'm Bored by All This Tenderness

               constellations in the notebook, spins of ink blot          blur, spot the dot           so I’m caught
up in tangle, making lines using a lot of pen the latest parts, all about loosening      hungover
seven AMs in a cold room                         zoom.                 a kid skates circles around us asking are you
boy, girl, or clown?     air plants don't root,     just hang, find footing without feet    i read
instructions and aspire                             they may require less frequent water                 only a small
bath or misting             let them see the sky but not the sun.   i am working on doing less frequent
missing
                almost bedtime            i finally type how are you, and blink back towards the secret
garden of crying in museums.
                facebook seen.
                               disturbed by the elevators slow-dancing with invisible pulleys
                               look for the typing mix-up                 somewhere expect/ accept/ except.
i keep thinking about seams.                 trigger tripping, i must say, i’m bored with my own
discomfort,       the same wire knot     all bound up, a not me,               just the things growing
               around that may be. knot me.                maybe liminal spaces are just spaces
               without wifi       still I need touch          to remind me you're still here and such.

Hannah Nahar is a queer Jewish writer and human based in Boston. Their work can be found in Sixpenny, Palooka, Words Dance, and Dressing Room Poetry Journal, among other places. They like being quiet and being loud.

North Vancouver, B.C. Artist, and Author Jenn Ashton has lived a creative life that has encompassed everything from farming to the Boardroom; from BC to Harvard and back again. Coming from an artistic family she has brought a creative flair to all her projects large and small. Jenn is known for her originality, resourcefulness, and vision.  JennAshtonArt.com
Picture
© 2022 Up the Staircase Quarterly
  • Home
  • Nominations
  • About
  • Submit
  • Archives
  • Support