by Samantha Fain
Samantha Fain is a writer from Indiana. Her first chapbook, Coughing Up Planets, debuted with Vegetarian Alcoholic Press in March, and her microchap sad horse music debuted with The Daily Drunk in May. Her work has appeared in The Indianapolis Review, SWWIM, 8 Poems, and others. Find her at samanthafain.com.
holy shit when the heat hits me
i kiss every warm body
& whitman the shit out of the grass.
(i mean i pluck blades out & admire the colors & tell
whoever walks me home that the abundant green
makes me happily nauseous!)
so i choke joy up & quote my favorite lines:
to buzz or not to buzz
that’s all i’m thinking,
this lolling mind. does anyone want
to hear a poem. maybe a sestina
is for last calls & a sonnet
is my mcdonald’s order
that totals fourteen dollars.
& i would say this sober
but when i’m drunk every moment poems.
look at how the honey
mustard splatters onto my shirt
in the shape of a fried moon!
how the smoke of my chicken nugget
rises like a glorious stained haze
when i tear the meat in half!
of course it’s religious! i’m alive!
what i mean is “wasted”
was never the right word for this feeling.
i am full of purpose.
i am finding words for every picture in my head.
i’m considering how emdashed i am right now,
on this long pause home—how it was never sudden,
this pricked emotion, or a sharp turn of thought,
just an expansion of my heart
& my mouth about to pop!
& my god i love the world right now
& i love my clothes & all my friends
& i love poems & drunk shimmers
that go on forever
like &&& & never end &
this bit could be a movie—couldn’t it—
a supercut of growing up
except i am already old,
just growing into love!