The Tempestuous

Four years since the storm came

Marked by "a," "n," and "y"

A sudden squall, an upending,

Then abruptly: Goodbye.

 

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Herod's HQ (For Tamir)

Welcome to Cleveland, America's Bethlehem,
where gold has turned to 
incense.

Not Camus nor Coventry Carol,
Neither Reni nor a 
Rubens

Can corral these tears from Buckeyes
Crashing onto blood-soaked
pavements.

No sleep for Samaria
Amid moans from Rachel's Ramah
You called it, Jeremiah.

What happened to our wise men?
When did they flee the massacre?
Why did we let them go?

How can we say the Epiphany's on its way
When Matthew's deemed a liar—
Does even Jesus know?

If he does, he surely wept
as truth was swept
down Hell's pitch hole.

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The Medical Examiner of the Future

Set adrift in lacunae,

Drowned in loopholes and clauses,
Anesthesia not needed:
No one flinches or pauses.

He trudges through turmoil,
Through the gore and the gauzes,
Steeped in shrieks of salvation,
Genuflections and crosses.

Bodies bored through with bullets,
He's stopped counting the losses,
Still, he trembles while scrawling
His rote: "natural causes."      

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gee: thanks

This 
         gentle
         gift of
         goodwill I      grant with
                                 genuine
                                 grace. 
                                                  And yet:
                                                           I'm just 
lying
                                                flowers on your
                                 grave;       a     
                                 grim            godless
                                                      genuflection to prop up a
                                                      greedy, prideful
                                                      guise—
                                                      Grief's
                                                      grit
                                                  engorging my
                                                             gullet,
leaving me
                                                             grasping at rotting roots,
                                                             grinding,
                                                             gnashing, 
                                                             gasping,
                                                             gulping down
                                                    nitrogen and 
                                                       oxygen and all the Earth's
                                                             gases as I
                                                   manage a
                                                             guttural
                                                             goodbye and
go.

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.

Sun-Gazing

Remove all sight as I face    my          great fear

God strike me blind as         your       shadow disappears.

                                       

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The Metric System

Rejection born of love or hate

Either way—an unbearable weight.

                                       

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Aspirations

Every 10 years they scrape me clean

But oh! 

The miracles in between.

                                       

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Killed by the quiet.

                                       

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Gulp

Choking on your petrichor

                                       

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Loose Lips

i'm sorry i didn't tell you then i'm sorry i had to tell you now not sorry i told you

                                        

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Vanity and a Funeral

And now it appears as if

My heart will leave my chest!

I must confess,

I could use the rest—

I'll go get dressed.

                                        

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Mag-Lev Meditation

whydoimetastasizeallthispressuretodowhatmostotherscan'tdoanybetter...

                                        

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Stop, Drop, and Listen

Turn down the gaslight, dear, so 

YOU

won't beeeee

dIsTrAcTeD

ANDSOYOUCAN

                                             hear me.

                                        

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.

Full Mettle Jacket

Me love you wrong time.

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No Tell, William

Twoscore-three seems like a 

Long time to nurse such an 

anemic hand.

I'd consider folding but for the

2 of hearts.

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Resurrection

What are you giving up for Lent, he said

Pretending, she said

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