Marasztal
Oct 2017
How like my father
to turn to religion
the first of two heirlooms
he’d left me.
His Faith,
and his Cologne.
-
Nicholas M. Coulombe
Pownal, ME
Poetry
Dear Future, “I’ve a Favor”
Nov 25th 2018
Dear Future,
I've a favor to ask of you.
First, I'll need to clarify some pronouns.
The following contents prefer to be identified as "favor"
This favor will also sometimes go by "letter"
for survival,
but never "prayer".
It can be a vulnerable feeling.
received as a "prayer" without asking God to watch me
constricted into his warmth like
I don't get to ask who's love I bath in.
and I was curious.
What are your pronouns?
Do you go by God
or Future
or Legacy?
I don't want to be disrespectful.
I already feel like a burden,
I know you would take me in anyway.
I tried to think about your origins
If they had anything to do with
time or if "we"
made that shit up
ask what the fuck "dark matter" is,
or
if we made that shit up
too.
I wanted to know where you
became...
I wanted to know if I get dementia,
obliterated in a nuclear light
or watch the sun turn off;
in a race between all three
what burns out first?
Do I get a vote?
I'd rather be forgotten, and remember...
than be remembered, and forget....
Poetry
INHALE
Jul 2017
The pharmacist at CVS says I am not prescribed an inhaler anymore.
so in it's place.
I prescribe myself cigarettes
I need something to inhale
cigarettes seem a logical alternative to inhalers
deliberatly I decide to not drive
to the cigar store.
i walk to the cigar store.
it is far enough to be inconvenient
which means maybe
If I am not destined to buy this cigarette
I will receive an overwhelming sensation to turn back
I always add time for potential divine intervention to my agenda.
It happens often enough to be logical
we may have different definitions of logical
the cashier asks my age
And I tell him 21.
I am 22.
somehow In the confusion of waiting for god to prescribe me an overwhelming emotional reaction to not buy cigarettes
Instead of an inhaler.
I forget a whole fucking year of my life.
this is great context for
How I trust myself when making decisions.
which is to say
I don't trust myself to make descisions.
I buy the cigarettes.
upon searching for the optimal location
to loiter and slowly kill myself.
I stumble upon the old teen center.
the first place I was a mentor.
Out the side of the building
There's this rock
Long enough to sit five or so children
two laying down.
it's Perferated like a candy bar
each rectangle curved slightly
custom fit to years of munchkin butt
this slump right here
this slump is my munchkin butt.
each break of chocolate
on the candy bar rock
has a ladyslipper growing behind it.
tips of the five purple flowers
stretch to align perfect with the tips of our childhood belly buttons
humbled, I brush the leaves
excavate delicately
this heirloom.
I had forgotten.
The sky is recovering When I lay myself on the rock.
light grey clouds that want to cry
an optimistic sun that won't let them
I Cover my face with an old journal
made of old book smell.
I smile into the pages.
my lips barely touching the silk threading of her binding.
I've never breathed so intimately
a new lover.
the tip of my nose tucked into her spine.
honeymoon phase, Intoxicating.
Still excited to be in love.
there's breath here
wisdom in the records of
loving young,
cherrishing this new book smell.
Filling your chest with it.
When memories are tangible
There are no more expiration dates
Fill my lungs with
the crisp of unturned pages,
worn leather covers
Soft silk crosstitches
Kiss air into me
from the space between your lines.
I know how intimate an untold story can be.
Today I started breathing
I fell in love With a metaphor.
I never did smoke that cigarette.
-
Nicholas M. Coulombe
Freeport, ME
