five poems

by Andi Horowitz

I KNOW ALL THE LINES I JUST CAN’T PLAY THE PUNCTUATION

it must be saturday        most certainly not monday   

saturdays are for theater                   we’re waltzing  

I understand the dialogue                  it’s the funeral

behind your eyes   upending the playwright’s intent   

are you reciting another's lines       and the blocking    

has you seated         you stand with your back to me

what is your problem                         we were given 

director's notes                               I pivot in concert 

with his directions                          we exit stage left

KINTSUGI 

 (a Japanese method for mending broken pottery)

I wake to

kangaroo courts playing leapfrog

bitters in my mouth

pain from rubber bands snapping against my skin

one hundred sixty-four signed executive orders

throbbing like reversed retainers

pushing out teeth from inside my mouth

news anchors projectile vomiting in the bushes

innocence adrift in uncharted waters

tiny hypoxic tadpoles waiting to drown

grandmothers and grandfathers denied last rites

letting go       clasping hands

rancid bottled milk

moldy half-eaten months-old bread

and empty pill vials 

                 (insurance denied)

America’s self-anointed king 

praying to himself

*

a bolded headline above the fold

Jesus, Mother Theresa, Buddha & Gandhi

deported to hell

The Supremes   gone . . .

              fishin’

unidentifiable masked men on the loose

felons and rapists cannot be president—

            but he is

ANATHEMA TO THE SOUL OF OUR NATION

for George Conway, with his boyish grin and razor-sharp mind 

as he explains it all to Sarah Longwell while humming 

The Battle Hymn of the Republic beneath her questions

this little pant-soiling, tariff-fencing leader, 

bellowing en garde, mainlining 

omens of dread deep into 

every vein of human existence.

our enemy’s retribution

began his journey, 

obstructing the backs 

of our throats

like a hideous carbuncle.

a cold, dark winter 

burned, half a nation ached:

came spring:

marching doggedly 

into the bowels of a beast

traitors, fringe fanatics

deified him; a should have been, 

disqualified treasonous, wannabe despot.

after 138 years

the Great Colossus

inscribed on the Statue of Liberty 

lies, a lost treasure

at the bottom of New York’s harbor

staining an America

            ((her heart a stranger)) 

we thirst to recognize. 

glory, glory, hallelujah,

our feet will meet 

each moment with ya.

our country refuses 

to be your footstool;

or souls of wrong 

your slave.

blazing light illuminates

our every truth, our every action;

democracy marches on.

BEAUTIFUL THINGS FADE INSIDE ATTICS AND BASEMENTS

Dawn’s band of birds 

Shackled by plaques and tangles  

gradually fall silent

trapped inside my mind

Rosy hues of morning 

Slip through my fingers

Is it daylight     Is it night

The man sitting by my bedside

unrecognizable            my son

Do I miss him

and not know what is missing  

Is he disappearing 

                 Or am I

QUELLED BENEATH ABANDONED CODIFIED COVENANTS OF FREEDOM

conceived on parchment

blanketed amidst  

forty-four hundred words

lest you forget

I remember

cirrus clouds 

dare not tarnish his royal blue sky

he remains there

poaching our air

Photo of Andi (Andrea) Horowitz

BIO: Andi (Andrea) Horowitz is a University of Florida graduate with degrees in English, Speech, and Journalism. Andrea is an emerging poet living in Fort Myers, FL, with her husband and two Cairn Terriers. She has taught high school English and Speech and has also served as the director of drama at Fort Myers High School. Andrea's work can be found in Variant Lit, Ghost, Griffel Mag, Ghost City Press, Stone Crop Magazine, and others. She has a book titled "Send Me Into a Different Ending" is out now from Voice Lux Press. Andrea dreams of a world absent of stains.