Art

Two Poems – Artur Witkowski

Aw, Where Are My Friends

biked all the way to the end of the pier, mom
i saw a really long fish
he was flailing from an invisible line
he was painting a picture with his tail
a picture of a world where he wasn’t suffocating with a hook in his mouth
there were disco balls underwater and all the fish were pushing coke into each others gills
there were speakers playing Hey Mickey underwater and the whole ocean was one big party
neon coral, manta rays all blingy in diamond chains
the painting lasted over a minute
i was eating a granola bar, watching
death in the air
it was morning, there was a blue horizon and the fish did a jig all the way across
crazy, giant strokes, then finishing touches, small, smaller, eyes open
poor Greg, we caught him in Oslo and got high and ate him up
after that everybody got married
one by one

prayer #35

I had the best dream last night
You gave it to me
More rampage than dream
How often I forget sex is the only thing I care about
the only thing that hurts

You can imagine my feverish disappointment upon waking
Old, married, guilty of thoughtcrime
staring at my white ceiling fan
Right then I knew I’d lay all my morality at your feet
for a fuck
and listen to pop music on the radio afterwards
Surely being hungover increases the human capacity for remorse
What else can’t I unthink

Even our tongues loved each other
and your ass was my best friend in the world
I was forced to write horrible poetry about it in your absence
trying to sleep
trying to spread butter across a slice of toast
watch a movie
breathe
without your ass
until you knocked twice on my door
put your hair up, slowly
as a torturer who relishes in suffering
and held me at the cliff of orgasm
and turned into God right on top of me
Yeah, that time
fifteen years ago

What kind of morning is this?
I sat down on the couch
drank cold coffee with eyes closed
almost afloat
and
reverent of your body
I don’t care if I shiver like a bad Christian
Reverence aimed a cold hand through the years and threw a pie in my face
Oh, strawberry pie
still tastes good