Cleave of the Month January 2009 shortlist

The editor’s shortlist for this month – voting is open until 15th February.

A Tank/A Life by Michael Williams

alone in a field – walking by myself
a water tank sits rusting – stopping and looking inside
once full of water – I think of my life
little more than scum remains – of potential and promise
existence without purpose – a sense of disappointment

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When Styx Freezes Over by Boris Kipnis

your	impulses	stimulate	my mind
heart	make me want	to wake up	hungry
ready	to act irresponsibly	the dead	again
waking up	like a child	toothless	helpless
naked	crying for love	wide smile	when I see
you calm	my temper tantrums	swallowing	the world
urges	subside when	your breast	cold and empty
touches	my lips	hair stands up	vastness of grief
turning into	find yours	twin blades	blue steel on glass
hardness	soothing cuts	part flesh	and bloody
waves	of happiness	wash away	depression
slamming	rocking	my senses	like cancer
in remission	my stilts still	crumble	why?

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Immortality by Rick Dale

I want to care — I want people to think

I do — I really give a shit

or maybe I think I’m supposed to care — It’s only a phantom

all that guilt-driven shame — the constant harping

heaped on me — dosed in good measure

by a well-meaning but fascist parent — applied with “love”

comes to fruition — leaving welts

late in life — on tender skin

Too late? — “Not enough,” I scream

The “what is” and the “what should be” — unnecessarily

wage war in my crimson thoughts — But they do make it seem like

I really really don’t give a good goddamn — at times

about much of anything others think of me — yes, not even you

yet I still act like I do — understand completely

Am I in control? — A lack of empathy

Or is it she—still? — Shrew-bitch!

And the gray elephantine weight of it all — Bearing down unmercifully

colors and smothers my every labor — crushing any effort

to write, speak, move, feel — to love!

If I could drive a stake — with abandon

through the heart of darkness — to the hilt

I would—ending it — forever

But there is immortality — with her blessings

and her name is “mother” — Amen

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Ricardo Reis by Dennis Kelly
“No one by choice
or inclination would
remain in this port.”
—Jose Saramago,
The Year of the Death
Of Ricardo Reis

here the sea ends—the coast begins
it is raining—over the colorless sea
the waters of the river—polluted with mud
the riverbeds—flooded
a dark vessel—ascends the somber river
to anchor—in lisbon
back & forth—the same ports
london—buenos aires
la plata—montevideo
santos—rio de janeiro
pernambuco—las palmas
one does not speak—or ask
which is—the greater river
which is—the greater town
a curtain of water—descends from sky
we come to know—what we don’t know
which is what—we know already
there is nothing—but names
beyond the reach—of writing

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Dearly Belateds by Diana Manister