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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

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