maeve flusser

@hashtagmaeve

Today I Can’t Say

I down-dog because I’m a down-human.

My third eye rolls as the yoga teacher

tells me to

      inhale,

exhale

the day out.

The thoughts are flying by like clouds! – and I

think about that guy on the street – Voldemort. 

Clueless if I wanna to chop his dick off,

or slice pickles on a platter, either way,

I pick up my Zoloft after class

and the lady makes me small-talk – 

Hi, how are–

We have so many prescriptions!

Inhale one hundred grams,

exhale regret

Inhale,

exhale. 

I don’t know if I want sex, sleep, or ice cream,

 so, I buy a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, 

search his name on LinkedIn.

Inside the Metro

‘Miss?

Miss? Do you have the time?’

It's 2:04.

2:04 2:04

2:04 2:04
The clock isn’t digital,

the clock is ice,

newborn at 32 degrees,

again. Again &

Again & &

‘Miss, not to be flir—’ I am

the blue seat—

‘Not to be flirtatious but—’

a smooth cushion

layered on polypropylene (Polly-

pro- pill- leen,

Google'd it, found mys—

Not to be flirtatious but you are hot—it’s

summer. Air blows

into the train car. I stay cold, motionless. Forced

to inhale, inhale, in—

Miss?! Miss?

Objects can’t speak,

plastic lips can’t quiver.

Miss, you remind me of—

I am a chair, I am a chair, I am—

Miss?

Maeve Flusser is a 23-year-old poet originally from Upstate New York. She currently resides in Northern Virginia, where she is an MFA candidate at George Mason University. She works as an Editorial Assistant for Poetry Daily (poems.com) and is a volunteer reader for the literary journal Phoebe.