Chris McCreary
Summer 2025 | Poetry
Edgeworn
The airs in here are more than any dog
could ear. Aren’t we all living our lives
on opposite sides of drywall? Who
among us hasn’t shat this sofa bed
when under duress? Our better angels
were escorted into the circle of myrrh
& force fed shredded credit reports until
they burst. Our favorite game is stuffing
their bronzed skulls with potpourri :
it's like charades but with snakes
& shoots, pulleys & loops. We take tea
& cake pops in the nook before book club.
I take dictation only when I'm certain
everybody’s whistle’s already wet. We're
not here for a good time but a long time
coming under cover of busted lacrimal
ducts. Who among us wasn't easily led,
easily swayed, put paid & laid out amid
the potluck’s lasagna? Who hasn't retained
tomato stains even after they’ve run you through
the dishwasher? The heart wants what it wants
& what it wants is your arm around my waist
estranged even from its owner’s elbow. Our every
faux pas sends me scrawling, yet there’s cold comfort
in leftovers served as second brunch. Dust jackets
are what remains, our pages dampstained
& lightly foxed.
Chris McCreary's latest book, awry, was published by White Stag in 2024. He lives in South Philadelphia and can be found on IG at @chris___mccreary.