Two Alien Queen Poems by Russell Jaffe

Friday, February 15, 2013

I hold in my hand the detonator.
I was always a really outgoing kid.
I loved the sound of lawnmowers. I loved the sound of garbage cans being
dragged to the curb.
I loved the sound of any potential place someone could step.
Boom boom ad infinitum.
Meanwhile etcetera’d my tire playground blacktop slime all cavernous hive
boys and girls
you are my drones
and I am the Alien Queen.
Look at me in the grass among my Kenner Alien action figures.
Gaze upon the what in what I’ll do. Be my other half.
Not. The Alien Queen’s mouth eats endlessly her smaller mouth she weaponizes.
To the exploded streets of lack suburbs paper trail open backpack animal path.
I knew even as a crumple paper chalkboard comic book Zubaz kid
that I was all the halves I’d ever get.
No one has a head shaped like mine.
I hold in my hand the detonator.
You’re going to look me in the face
because you’re wondering:
where did I bury the bomb?
Duh.
In my other hand
I hold the bomb.

ve

O alright Alien Queen
you and I draw charcoal camp pictures of each other
and no one bullies this station in the ink of forest space desert mountain USA
amen.
Someone pulled the airlock in your jeans
and they laughed.
Alien Queen
baby I’m sorry.
I sail this rib cage banking everything until it is held crushed and mollified
and blood soaked and red marker in the charcoal in the fingerprints in the woods.
What I like about you’s
you have a pretty smile.
I drive the rain to the woods tonight
O Earth
I’m sensitive and I get lonely sometimes and have no eyes and extra tiny arms
in my chest which stretch my O smitten guts.
May fuck all flamethrower this fetid languish
so that no eggs remain unscathed
amen.
For it is just you and I and the DIY tapestry void amalgam outer space we deframe.
Hang this crooked frame feminine
O article.
Alien Queen you unsung feminist icon contemplative pewter self falling
clawing vacuum universe rolling the credits.
Sometimes we’re falling
and dreaming and
screaming and
screaming
and singing
the dark matter ringing.

_______________________

Russell Jaffe lives in Iowa City and works with the Iowa Youth Writing Project. His poems have appeared in DIAGRAM, American Letters & Commentary, La Petite Zine, The Colorado Review, and others. He is editor of Strange Cage, a poetry chapbook press that curates a reading series. He collects 8-tracks.

© 2013, Metazen.

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