We're in the Ocean | We're Going to Heal

Eszter Takacs

Eszter Takacs is the author of the chapbooks Together We Will Talk Right Down to Earth (The New Megaphone) and The Spectacular Crash (H_NGM_N Books). Her individual poems have appeared in Salt Hill, Yalobusha Review, Forklift Ohio, Sonora Review, Alice Blue Review, Diagram, Hobart, Softblow, and other places. She holds an MFA from the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. She also teaches and paints. 

We’re in the Ocean

Causing terrible rowing 

Toward the task of satiety 

You’re a sparkling musketeer 

And here we are 

Suddenly dangerous plus eating crackers 

A gang of loose-jawed incumbents 

Milking the lumped scone batter 

Zapping the dismembered flutes 

You sky-face my elegant period of Texas 

And the curvature of my nasty beats 

Wear your favorite hat in the garden 

Of anise seed and salt 

Pink

We droop our pocket machines

Pink

Into the veins of the roofie

I was talking about not even the gold

You’re doing a lot of political agenda these days

You are drying up and bulging light

This is your warning

You’re curving your mistakes to bloom them

And I’m not even talking about your big dumb face 

Sitting up like a flower half-drowned in light 

We’re Going to Heal

To argue for dissention is a soft piece of going 

Like harvesting a half-drowned bird
From the last pile of storm rubble
The ground is still wet from your falling 

Clumped with feather and grain 

Dearest ambiguity, show off your glut 

Stay gold and walk through meadows 

With your 90s collection of grief
You fall into the starlight 

Like torn taffeta in summation green 

We’ll be glorious in the sky
Arms full of bats and roses
You’re a turd 

You’re an obese starling
Welcome to the bandwagon
Panning through the streets of suburb 

Maine I’ve walked them too
Tarred and feathered
The ghost of a potato never begets victory 

But rolls and keeps rolling
A soft orange light arranges its hair nicely
In the distant glum
A cloud can’t even begin