"Highland Moor" by Vian Borchert
Sara Burge | Two Poems
Your Mom
Because everyone’s mom’s a dump truck
town mattress-back dumber than a sack
of conspiracy theorists,
it’s okay. Your mom exists
so we can establish dominance,
and when she becomes a stick figure version
of what we’ve been taught
is the worst sort of woman,
how good do any of us need to be?
We are free with all our moms
keeping their back doors open
ever since they waitressed the Last Supper.
But sometimes, between the jokes,
she takes a break, sheds the bathrobe
of pious womanhood and disappears
where you can’t find her
even though you need her
to wash the dishes.
Your mom exists now only as a concept
and maybe she becomes
a series of paintings,
she’s Water Lilies or
parading naked
through the Garden
of Earthly Delights.
Your mom moves out
on the town now.
She sits beneath a neon hot dog,
eats frito pie and gives zero fucks
what the scale or your friends will say.
She puts on a wig, spies on the cops.
She goes to the park
and feeds the mallards from her own body
because even when she’s alone
your mom is never allowed to forget
she exists for consumption. Your mom
chases the mean dogs off her street,
tears off her clothes, gets on all fours
and screams until every car alarm is terrified
and all your neighbors’ windows break.
Not even the air is safe.
town mattress-back dumber than a sack
of conspiracy theorists,
it’s okay. Your mom exists
so we can establish dominance,
and when she becomes a stick figure version
of what we’ve been taught
is the worst sort of woman,
how good do any of us need to be?
We are free with all our moms
keeping their back doors open
ever since they waitressed the Last Supper.
But sometimes, between the jokes,
she takes a break, sheds the bathrobe
of pious womanhood and disappears
where you can’t find her
even though you need her
to wash the dishes.
Your mom exists now only as a concept
and maybe she becomes
a series of paintings,
she’s Water Lilies or
parading naked
through the Garden
of Earthly Delights.
Your mom moves out
on the town now.
She sits beneath a neon hot dog,
eats frito pie and gives zero fucks
what the scale or your friends will say.
She puts on a wig, spies on the cops.
She goes to the park
and feeds the mallards from her own body
because even when she’s alone
your mom is never allowed to forget
she exists for consumption. Your mom
chases the mean dogs off her street,
tears off her clothes, gets on all fours
and screams until every car alarm is terrified
and all your neighbors’ windows break.
Not even the air is safe.
A Thousand Stars
One thousand eyes falling from the sky isn’t God watching you.
I find strange joy in living through the end times.
They’re just stars
I find it easy to go numb in the face of tragedy.
and the phone call isn’t Jesus cutting out on you.
When I was twelve, my parents split up.
It’s just a bad connection.
My father married a catfish.
Faith won’t make you immune
I keep it above the stove.
to rashes and telemarketers.
It says it’s too warm. It’s sprouting fur.
Revelations is a great story
All I wanted was a tv in my room
to trick your mark into believing
and for someone to see me.
everything you say is the gospel truth.
I’m afraid to let it out.
I find strange joy in living through the end times.
They’re just stars
I find it easy to go numb in the face of tragedy.
and the phone call isn’t Jesus cutting out on you.
When I was twelve, my parents split up.
It’s just a bad connection.
My father married a catfish.
Faith won’t make you immune
I keep it above the stove.
to rashes and telemarketers.
It says it’s too warm. It’s sprouting fur.
Revelations is a great story
All I wanted was a tv in my room
to trick your mark into believing
and for someone to see me.
everything you say is the gospel truth.
I’m afraid to let it out.
Sara Burge is the author of Apocalypse Ranch (C&R Press) and her poetry has appeared in or is forthcoming from Virginia Quarterly Review, The American Journal of Poetry, New South, Cimarron Review, Atticus Review, Prairie Schooner, River Styx, and elsewhere.
Vian Borchert is an established artist and poet exhibiting in the US & internationally. Vian is a Notable Alumni from Corcoran GW University. Borchert exhibits in museums and key galleries in major cities like NYC, DC, LA, London. Borchert's art is in embassies and collections worldwide, along with vast coverage in publications. Borchert is an art educator in the Washington DC area. Borchert's artwork can be acquired via "1stDibs" and "Artsy" marketplaces with auctions. Website: www.vianborchert.com
