Poetry: "Now Your Can Lift Any Item" & Any Day Now: Aliveness"




Now You Can Lift Any Item*


Since I’ve mastered chopsticks--lifting noodles to my mouth--I can wake up happy. I teleport and/or time travel to sit on the roof with my friend and laugh

at the toilet flush audible from our perch. My heart feels warm again. My life was saved with warmth while I was at the cash register behind

my friend who warmed me, buying coffee. The money exchanged

was toilet talk, a humorous consequence of brains. Who needs brains when you have a detour into nourishment. Now you can lift any item, said our chopsticks wrappers later, when noodles

followed coffee. And before noodles: their warm teal hair atop their head, next to me

all the way to the Arboretum. We made sure to find coffee and toilets despite many people who said we’d never find coffee or toilets

or happiness. I’m never sure what that gesture means, the gesturing with my heart. It once lifted me to the roof, like a noodle

to a mouth. Now it shoulders anything.


* “Now You Can Lift Any Item” is my paraphrase of a sentence that can be found on the wrapper of some disposable chopsticks: “Now you can pick up anything.” This can be viewed here: https://www.reddit.com/r/funny/comments/o3zsl/now_you_can_pick_up_anything/





Any Day Now: Aliveness


I used to ask, how would a dead person see this desk job? But then it didn’t help--being dead.

I remember waking up happy one time that year.

Mnemonic devices don’t lift the other heavy mornings.

Still, my future came to introduce itself one day, an inverted memory.

My path coming to meet me made me feel oddly loved

while I dressed only because I was awake. I was loved until 3 pm, when my mind took over.

ROYGBIV: the acronym that holds rainbows--proof the mind can hold them too--

I sent this mnemonic ahead of me to the love that came for me.

Right before I quit, a walking bridge on my morning commute woke up painted in rainbows. The past blurred and softened, became a memory trick.

Any day now, aliveness might intervene to surprise.





Amy Poague holds an M.A. in Creative Writing from Eastern Michigan University. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in SWWIM Every Day, Figure 1, The Indianapolis Review, Kissing Dynamite, and others. She can be found at amypoague.wordpress.com and on Twitter @PoagueAmy.