Everything I did I did for the music,
shouting to birds in flight above me
I think you’ve made enough sense for today.
I hope that you’re nothing like me
I write on a postcard to the future,
I hope the unfamiliar, like a blanket
or a lamp, touches everything
mysterious and free. When I had
the floor I talked about witches
and domestic labor until it was
clear everyone was uncomfortable.
Almost a chant but too graceless
I mumble to the mirror Laura
you don’t need to recognize
everything either in or outside,
all right? You don’t need to know
the word for it. My favorite
part was when we gave
everything away except the radio,
which hardly worked, traded names,
held hands in a circle waiting
by the gas station
for our ride to arrive.
Laura Henriksen’s poems and reviews have appeared in or are forthcoming from P-Queue, The Brooklyn Rail, Jacket2, and High Noon, among other places. Her first chapbook, Agata, was just released by Imp. In April, she will participate in the 92nd Street Y’s annual reading, The Tenth Muse.