Lunch Poems


A new poem, part confession, part song, about immersion and seafood soup.

Monthly I must snort the universe

           or seduce a hummingbird

betrothed to a ladybird

acclaimed for her art

           a sculptor with clay on her pants

(ugly pants)

don’t you understand

           I will not go to G_d

for milk again.

           Wreck your nest

turn red

make me goddamn seafood soup, bird

           cook intimately with clams

on counter and blood on wall

spoon me up

           that ocean broth

I must be rid of this medusa feeling

           or else

feel my forehead

say not so scarlet

           not so evil

and flannel nightclothes

will grow backwards

           over my arms

an arm-based piety.

Melissa Broder is the author of the poetry collection When You Say One Thing But Mean Your Mother. Poems appear, or are forthcoming, in Opium Magazine, Five Dials, The Collagist, Swink, and many other places. She edits La Petite Zine and curates the Polestar Poetry Series at Cakeshop. By day she is a publicity manager at Penguin. More by Melissa Broder