Post Canvas #10 by David Goodrum
Kids by Jeremiah Moriarty
Celebrities say you stop growing up when
you first get famous—that lawless year when your star
rises hot, when you first bolt across the indifferent night as
a hook might rhyme in a boy’s ear, then his head, then his
history, the silence and the sound like the difference between
a word and the lips that made it—while the sober say
you stop growing when you first kiss the poison and spit it
back in the bite, romancing the hollow. How old
do I feel? Like the world could still give me
its number, stained in my palm with summer’s cola. Like
we’re scared and happy and still playing barefoot badminton
on the front lawn, twisting and yelling and laughing.
Baby faces, denim everything. Like I’m packing and unpacking
for college, forever mouthing secrets into pillows before
dividing myself by zero. Thinking nothing counted, thinking
nothing ever could. Leaning an arm outside a van window and
losing count of soybean fields, cruising my boring streets and
fielding questions about a special friend, so feral and free because
I was really gonna be somebody.
you first get famous—that lawless year when your star
rises hot, when you first bolt across the indifferent night as
a hook might rhyme in a boy’s ear, then his head, then his
history, the silence and the sound like the difference between
a word and the lips that made it—while the sober say
you stop growing when you first kiss the poison and spit it
back in the bite, romancing the hollow. How old
do I feel? Like the world could still give me
its number, stained in my palm with summer’s cola. Like
we’re scared and happy and still playing barefoot badminton
on the front lawn, twisting and yelling and laughing.
Baby faces, denim everything. Like I’m packing and unpacking
for college, forever mouthing secrets into pillows before
dividing myself by zero. Thinking nothing counted, thinking
nothing ever could. Leaning an arm outside a van window and
losing count of soybean fields, cruising my boring streets and
fielding questions about a special friend, so feral and free because
I was really gonna be somebody.
Jeremiah Moriarty is a writer from Minnesota. His poems and stories have appeared in The Rumpus, No Tokens, Catapult, Breakwater Review, and elsewhere. He tweets @miahmoriarty.
David Goodrum (Corvallis, Oregon) has had photography published in various art/literature journals and juried into many art festivals. He hopes to create a visual field that transports you away from daily events and into a place that delights in an intimate view of the world. See additional work at www.davidgoodrum.com.
