Wednesday, October 10, 2012

NEW! Poem by Jacob Schepers

Jacob Schepers


Bring back the chilblains
though it costs you the wasps.
Compare the stings of both.

Toss out the digital clocks;
pinch droplets of bathwater
scintillating still into a saucer:

follow their trail till the baby
peels off the milk carton
back into your arms.

Forget the number four. Same goes
for all like-lettered words. Practice
that accent. You know which one.

Rescind the former laurels old loves
tied around your temples too tight
without brushing your nape enough.

Call your mother. Stay indoors.
Keep up that recovered tongue;
tune a piano, but sell your own, 

the one you never played 
unless prompted. Clean the eavestrough
and call your mother. Tell her

again what you meant to say
that time before you choked
on a fishbone.

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