2 poems
by Kelly Jones
Kelly is a queer poet-librarian-baker who currently calls the Piedmont of NC their home.
The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory
-The Dalí Museum, St. Petersburg, Florida
It is cold inside. I stand shivering
before the painting. I stare
at broken trees, crumbling ground,
and a dead fish floating at the surface.
A sheet of water is strung from a branch.
Time melts beneath it. Beneath my sheets
I create memories. Sometimes
I wake from a dream, trembling
like a finger tired from overwork.
Outside, it is hot and the water is tempting.
Birds are flying and boats are bobbing upon the bay.
Someone tell me what holds a beach together.
Now that I Live in a Small City
Things start on time and end early. On the way back to the car after a concert at a coffee shop, I laid down on the sidewalk to befriend a stray cat. Last summer my housemates came home drunk, after indulging in tequila suicides[1] and PBRs. They sat in the kitchen eating popcorn while giving each other stick-n-poke tattoos of ghosts that in the light of day looked more like slightly misshapen penises. Here we make our own fun and know that nothing really lasts forever.
[1] Snort the salt, down the shot, squeeze juice of lime slice into the eye