three poems
by Liz Mariani
Slices during Winter
This Buffalo pizza sweats lakes of golden grease
Like proud parents
We glaze lovingly into these tiny bowls
Liquid copper pepperoni peace
Manmade apertures
Thursday ferals
We’ve got time for nothing
Nobody knows or cares
Who put lipstick on all the Stop signs?
On a day like this
In a country like this
At a time like this?
Cook and cut lose spindle jerks
Dirty dishes
Dirty clothes
Dirty timelines
Dirty cycles
Dirt Dirt Dirt
Every year
This time
Silver fish wash ashore
Mush and sticks
Some of the glass is green
Some of the glass is broken
Some of the glass is soft
Nobody at the beach
The theme song stands correct
Half espresso half Limoncello
The bottle my brother sent to Pelham Bay
It’s more of a slogan than a prayer
You, the eggshell yellow liquor
Frosted shampoo bottle breach
Pulping old fonts
Soaked limp
That pack of Virginia Slims
I can’t smoke
But I want to
Can you smell the
Wood burning stove
Burning the paperwork?
Slow down horse fly
At this age and this height
We search for intention
The training wheels are off
These hunters hunt fulltime
Dress like surveillance for surveillance
Wear body armor for the body armor
Write books for books
Poems for poems
Make the sort of effort
A driverless car would
Chrome and plastic
Fresh newborns bake to search
To reach
You see that lady in the waiting room?
Hallow from exhaustion
Not into reincarnation
This life is enough
She hates sugar-free everything
Wait for her name
Wait for the news
Bluebird Out and Tel Aviv
You only appreciate hot weather when I forget the smoke
The breath is now optional
Thinking of your warmth
I understand burned out Redwoods are your thing
I am into self-determination
Got more than the last
Less fears
More belly fat
I live in the closed purse of Bjork’s imagination
Do you see the same clear sky?
The moon will be a frisbee at dawn
I let some balloons go
At six or seven
Just American children squatting for air raid drills
Gathered in commentary for hunger songs
I was left alone too much as a child
Me, the ghosts, the piano, the dog
James Baldwin’s books
War and Peace
My stepfather’s VHS tape of porn
Labelled God’s Work Through Moses
Natalie and I still prefer to meet in the woods
Avoid the cemetery especially when they’re digging
Carve the names of crushes into the grip scroll of tree bark
Let’s rank eclipses
You can shoot bottle rockets into my gut
I’ll try to listen to your heart
Let’s say
devices locks beds lovers
children homes mouths voices
internets cars tires gumption chutzpah
synagogues mosques churches gyms
names parents children teas cups the colors of red
thoughts intentions worries
wonders wants needs likes dislikes searches lists
loans purchases driving patterns
faces tattoos glasses plastics phones oil
walk unplug slowdown refuse to fade
lean live die into witchcraft pagan veal venom the
power of peace shalom salaam thunder shabbat
prayer mindful renumeration barter fast bedrest gallop
drink from the chest of drawers clarinet reeds connect
handwritten cursive big cat blocks walk in squares sing in circles
unlock relief remember the source has a lifespan
new skies new poems another recipe for your favorite pasta
soup smoothie escape route green juice underbelly deep cut
autumnal freeze like peacocks dolphins the caraway to the ninetieth
Photo of Liz Mariani
BIO: Liz Mariani is a poet and artist living in Buffalo, New York. She earned a BA in American Studies from the University of Buffalo and an MFA in Poetry from Mills College. Recent poems have been published in Italian Trans Geographies via SUNY Press, Record of Dissent via The Chaos Section Poetry Project, Slipstream Magazine, Moonlit Getaway, The Waiting Room, Two Serious Ladies and The Buffalo News. linktr.ee/lizmarianipoetry / https://bsky.app/profile/lizmariani.bsky.social / https://www.pw.org/directory/writers/liz_mariani