Six Poems from A Series

by Clare Needham


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​A13

      Interior:    

Extra set of keys, once his
wife’s; the poem to guide;
the painting of a field
in a storm.

      The psychic thing again:

Guess what’s in my head?
A lightbulb.
I can’t do it –

      The downward turn:

Begin by standing in the mirror,
in the dark, chant
three times
for a visitation.

        A blue kickball
        behind a chain-link fence
        they both want to kick.


A14.a

I feel slim when I walk in
my new black ankle boots;
I feel good walking through
the city dusk; I like him
tall against the wall, waiting.

Lay awake and played sex scenes; listened to the clock.
Thought about all the stuff I had to do.

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A16

He said he’d smashed four guitars,
       and she’d only smashed plates and glasses.

He mentioned people who pass out upon landing,
       because they’ve been hiding in stowaway.

He described a famous filmmaker’s Polaroids,
       how the angle of light was the angle of prayer.   

       *

She should stop contemplating other people’s images.
 

A17

​Listening to “Heart of Glass,”
I frame a picture
from an illustrated dictionary –

la vie morale et intellectuelle

“The claims of love
       and self-preservation
are opposed.”

I don’t listen. I feel. I see.

A red present tied with
purple, lances of gold
light reflection.

A wooden bench transforms
into a Whippet.

I receive many gifts along the way.

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A20

We went back to the light.

We looked up new rules.

This time, we would hold

hands, and I would touch

the mirror, and we would

say it thirteen times.

We held hands – again –

and we began. Our fingers

interlocked. I asked the

questions.​

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A24

Our minds were dark purple
velvet boxes with heavy lids –
harder to destruct, and harder
to open than we’d imagined.​


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Clare Needham's work has appeared in The Drift, The Missouri Review, Ploughshares Solos, New York Tyrant, 128 Lit, and The End, among other publications.