2 poems

by Margaret Yapp

Margaret Yapp is from Iowa. She lives and works in Minneapolis. Find her on Twitter and Instagram @bigbabymarg.

Do You Want a Better Story

What are those flowers

like waxy door knobs that don’t open

til ants chew up the sugar. Well I am

in my hometown feeling a little lonely

hoping to run into someone. An old friend

named X who got the same tattoo as me

but insisted hers was different

for a reason I can’t remember. I don’t

talk to X much anymore

because she built up seven stories

of cardboard boxes for her cats. Last April

I went to Dublin and ate caviar

with my grandma. My grandma

told me they’re called peonies

and the ant thing is a myth.

Peonies are just drunk and want attention.

Why did we go to Ireland to eat caviar. Caviar

reminds me of when X got an abortion

she told me her abortion

looked like two little fish eggs

in a very big pool of blood.

Two eggs and blood

sausage is what well-adjusted people eat in Ireland.

X told me about the abortion

like I would know what to do

but I didn’t. Maybe now I would be able

to say something extremely wise.

Like when I met a hot guy

then immediately googled him

to discover he published a dumb

poem in The Nation.

To which I said sometimes

it’s a relief to simply get rid of an option.

Saturn Returns

Please bring me to a casino in the middle of nowhere

to see what happens in a place where nothing is

 

embarrassing anymore. My backup horoscope app calls this life

The Loner’s Path / I’m just seeking

 

absolutely any working hot tub. Rebound off keep in touch /

please whistle me to sleep from across the bedroom.

 

I don’t care about anything /

I only wanna be about the moon.

 

A bald eagle flies outside the window

nowhere close to her Oneota nest / I ask my phone

 

does that mean something / backup horoscope app answers

Dear God, Please Shut Up About Birds.

 

Do you realize I was born during a flood / get off

on pretending this has meaning too /

 

when flood water busts empty space /

emptiness inevitable return / return / return / returns hot /

 

what do I want most out of this loner’s path?

For example dancing

 

in the casino parking lot / next to sudden-death

soybeans. Mostly I wanna

 

drive home alone. Almost on empty.

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