Two Poems by Anne Cecelia Holmes

In Our Heads I Place a Bet

Getting older is how I think about you
when I stop thinking about myself.

When you drag out the snow plow
there’s a glint all around like maybe

you’ve stopped moving, maybe it’s hard
to admit you were born in a thicket.

How about I tell you all the days
I wear my true head and you get hurt

this time for real. You should have been
the one to sleepwalk at summer camp,

to cry through the woods with someone
else’s sweatpants on. There is something

inside your mouth now that is so old.
Let’s make a proclamation where

we die in a mine field. Yes, this is fair.
Yes, we can build another Midwest.

In the future there is much to do.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Some Relics

Everything hurts the facial expression.
I’m sick of watching you fall over
the television like you’re the one
inside it, and more than ever
I feel like a tugboat in that scene.
Don’t blame me for your
bad cartography. I can’t be
an acrobat because
my heart isn’t ripe.
You said this trampoline
makes you dream of chairs
but to me the backyard
is a butcher shop.
Bring me a bag of rocks
and I’ll carpet you in them.
I’m going to be
an admiral in all this.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Anne Holmes Anne Cecelia Holmes

Anne Cecelia Holmes is the managing editor of jubilat. Her poems have appeared in Phoebe, Denver Quarterly, H_NGM_N, La Petite Zine, and others. She is the author of a chapbook, Junk Parade (Dancing Girl Press 2012), and co-author (with Lily Ladewig) of the chapbook I Am A Natural Wonder (Blue Hour Press 2011). She lives in Northampton, MA.

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