Who We Love

When David died
I was with Tyler,
but I was supposed to be with Anna
because Tyler was a drop-out,
drug addict, the only boy
I’d ever kissed,
and I loved him enough to lie,

and he loved me enough

to justify it.

A year before David died
and Tyler dumped me at prom, 
it was summer in South Georgia—
asphalt rippled, the mirage talked,
it never rained.
It was my job to water David’s plants
while he was

out of town,


but Tyler and I were unbearably young, 

driven mad by lust and sun.

We heard
his cool guest bedroom

call to us, urgent lovers, all hands and need,
palms that know this body could be gone
at any moment,
fingertips that groped for memory.


When David died,
I needed him
to be alive so I could tell him

I didn’t water the plants that day.
I was sorry—so sorry.
Now I think of them—

wilted, alone under the hot sun
and I want to hear his voice,
I want him to say, it’s ok
we don’t choose
who we love. 

-Claire Nelson

Kazoo Serenade

The last nice thing you said to me

was “Your breath smells
like vodka,”

as I hummed at you

through a kazoo.
It was an

original composition;

maybe not

technically perfect—

I wasn’t concerned

with mechanics.
Who needs rules

when there are kazoos in the world?

I did an accompanying jig

on a cracked patch

of sidewalk.

Why is cement

always damp
on summer nights? It made such a

satisfying smack

against my bare-feet,

cool and wet,

like the familiar kiss

of a person I rarely see.

I could have danced circles around you

all night

until we were both too dizzy to know

melody from moment,

beauty from spit and plastic.

Instead, I unbuttoned the pocket

on your shirt, and slipped the kazoo inside.

I don’t need retrospect

to tell me

you don’t deserve

a kazoo serenade. Oh I wish

it was about deserve

and not desire.

Observations From The Window: Part I

Three times a day girl walks husky.
Grocery cart wheels and asphalt.
Parade of fat pugs.
Horn. Moment of suspension. Metal meets screeching metal.
School bus.
Skateboard.
Bike.
Later, an argument.
Unrelated sirens.