Things

high school midget teacher
eats big things
with knife & fork:
elephant brains, jet plane engines, marquee signs
& gowns for tall stars
from these “objects”
she grows 3 feet
& rules school:
spanking unruly jocks
in locker room

fashion model sister
eats small things
with knife & fork:
oatmeal grains, ants, bric-a-brac
& glitter
from these “objects”
she shrinks 3 feet
& becomes humble caregiver
for immature boyfriend

when midget teacher
isn’t riding class
she’s rebuking sister’s posture
on catwalk

they are what they eat
(or in materialistic terms)
they are what they collect



About the Author:
James Mirarchi grew up in Queens, New York. In addition to his poetry collections, "Venison" and "Dervish," he has written and directed short films, which have played at festivals. His poems have appeared in Crack the Spine Literary Magazine, Poydras Review, gobbet, Boyslut, Dead Snakes, Subliminal Interiors Magazine, and others.

Boxes

Courtyard is a haunted flea market
I dig my hands into boxes of garments
Frankenstein-ensembles sewn from you
ready to be resold

I pull the attire I decide to keep:
Your face dressed in a weathered smile
Your elegant body gestures paired with old sneakers
Pants pockets like sleepy airplane cabins
where our fingers meet in the dark
A beanie bagging your seasonal heart:
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter
(I alchemize it into personal accessories painted with spittle
pure as rain)
A t-shirt exhaling bar smoke from its collar
Gloves damp with snow
Sweaters quilted with muscle

More boxes of you
(stacked like a Lego monster)
fill my basement
I’m attacked every time I go down there
encrusted into some cardboard Transformer
until I’m ready, once again, to shed you





About the Author:
James Mirarchi grew up in Queens, New York. In addition to his poetry collections, "Venison" and "Dervish," he has written and directed short films, which have played at festivals. His poems have appeared in Crack the Spine Literary Magazine, Poydras Review, gobbet, Boyslut, Dead Snakes, Subliminal Interiors Magazine, and others.

Cooler

Her memories were grouped

Into 3 separate compartments:

1. the oven of her heart
2. the dishwasher of her soul
3. the cooler of her mind


1.

A bodyguard to herself
She hardly stored anything
In her heart
Its oven remained arctic
Its dial set to “OFF”
It was only when that RARE mystical tree
(with raw bleeding bark)
Erupted in her garden
Did she chop it down
Into perfumed logs
And feed it to her oven
She would glow through the night:
A spicy golden bread
A walking feast


2.

A select few memories
(the perfectly carnal type)
Would stagnate for days
Like dirty dessert dishes
She would linger over them
Picking at a lover’s high calorie crumbs
Mingling with maple syrup
She would soon load
These plates
Into her soul
Switch on its dishwasher
And rinse away
All the naughty leftovers
With a pious detergent
Until what was left:
Was presentable
For her china cabinet display


3.

Most of her memories
(good or bad)
Were bottled, chilled, and lined up
In her mind
Its cooler acting as a diet soda machine
Saccharine diluted any emotional alcohol
Thru nostalgia or denial
She would drink
These “healthy” beverages
Daily
Out of thirst or habit
But always
With a comforting lack of guilt




About the Author:
James Mirarchi grew up in Queens, New York. In addition to his poetry collections, 'Venison' and 'Dervish’, he has written and directed short films, which have played at festivals. He has also penned a feature script - a dark comedy titled 'Proxy’.