Two Poems

Poetry / M. Wright

Epoch H

Perhaps it is so wrong
to pull the amethyste

from the claws
of several generations, to

lay it on the counter
and call it a       rock.

To close a window
and call it a wall or

sell titles
perpendicular to colors.

I am an heirloom of extinction
and rebirth.

Break glass       in an emergency
and study its architecture.

When I finally get my hands
on the gnarls of age

I will fix myself perennial
and surrender punctuation,

like the megafauna,
to my holocene collapse.

This       is how
language is a remnant

of a hole punched six-
pack that traps the blue whiting

in the Atlantic.           This is how
a net collects enough

          to be a floating raft.

This is how I see
the world end             on a budget.

Postcard to Voyager 1 (1994)

We decided to lay painter’s tape
all up and across the print, just one

home-improvement step away
from erasing our striped and starred postcard.

All we had to do was buy the primer.
But we kept finding ways to instead

lay across wood shingles and trace the
migration of the power lines.

We were troubled with whether the card
should hold something so reflective of us

or if absence, like the coal mine or the
ocean, might be more sincere and lethal.

We agree that extinction is reversible
and watch the sun pour into itself

showing little sign of stopping.
The raconteur can’t revisit mistakes

in the constellation after it has been told.
I point my canary fingers towards the sky

and they crumble in the methane.

M. Wright is the author of Dear Dementia (Ghost City Press, 2017) which is currently featured in the 25th annual Poets House poetry showcase. M. is nominated for Best of the Net 2017 and his poems have recently appeared in Glass Poetry Press, Saint Paul Almanac, Temenos Journal, Into the Void, and others.