Three Disaster Movies from The Future: Poems by Lucas Pingel

Poetry: Lucas Pingel

Disaster Movie

At the edge of the locust storm our toes

Make a quiet music a prayer for broken

Wings go further than the natural cadence

A new word to signal an unplanned spring

We remember it as holy another way

Our knuckles speak to one another

Walls once smooth and white pages

Once smooth and white we are among

Them simply bleeding across the calendar

Someone spilled a glass an ocean

Happened all of the caverns felt

Relieved to remember their eyes

How they scrapbooked souls

History eroded to a sharp tip

A culmination became a story a weapon

Someone is alive on the other side

Of the wall all of the banging is muted

All of our wrists have bite marks

Maybe we are small faces assembled

To make a bigger face beware

The twister soaring toward us

A crash or a stroke is only time

Trees fall from a lifetime of gentle

Breezes there is a certain way you touch me

It is part of a brand new sky

We should make new kinds of rain

We should step back and look at what we’ve done

How much longer to wait around

The corner is a lovely day a simple

Place where a memory is an even

That can just happen to you loosening

Your collar and bathing in the river

Of moments you kept in time simply for this

Disaster Movie II

We decided to try growing together

That even light had memory worth saving

Our eyes celebrated the forward motion

The magnets we dreamed now real they drew

The snow inside and sheltered it kindly

We didn’t see the glowing teeth behind us

The rabid angel was cold on our necks

It felt like falling into a sentence

A future mirror tapping against the walls

Ornaments cracked in our hands told us

To do it quietly no one looking a cardinal

Considered the dirty birdbath something else

Tongues asleep the day unfolded preciously

How pure to be a sky

To send breath to another weather

A hard music for a ribcage to carry

The angels have offered their knuckles

They burst from the garden because noise

How the swallowed bullets psalmed

Our spirits how lonely it got inside

These uniforms slung across us

What metal taught us was spark

What air taught us was song there

Was a version of you in each flicker

Disaster Movie III

A thunderstorm of ashes bears

Our histories flicked out the window

Searing the eyelashes from the trees you

Are my beautiful heat wave

I press my ear to your bandaged ribs

And hear a lifetime of radio fuzz

How could my heart have so many

Hangnails dangling lifelessly

Not a drop of blood to be tasted

Spread a salve over my split lips

All of the tumbleweed agrees we

Could have been an important city we

Could have mummified our favorite

Buildings and waited inside for this

To pass over we could have used flashlights

To burn our imaginary suns in effigy

Tell the police we didn’t know a thing

It would be as true as everything

I am in the future now and breathless

All of my clothes are filthy I am carrying

Our secrets with a timer strapped to my chest

I have trusted you with the code

In exactly one hour we will be laughing

Our cracked hands covering our faces

An hour after that I might be alone with

A throat full of ellipses you will be tired

Of torching the narrative of all the scissors

In my neck this one

Is my greatest lullaby perhaps

A holy scorched birthday present

I’ll cut the ribbon for the grand opening

A vein is as easy as a new door

To a room where you could talk to me

It is so lonely there are so many more

Miles to tarp I only hope I die with

Some audience I hope the weather is nice

Lucas Pingel has published three previous chapbooks; most recently, Yes, I’m Sure This Was a Beautiful Place. Some of his book reviews have been featured in Heavy Feather Review and Cant. He lives in the Twin Cities, where he is an assistant professor at St. Catherine University and curates the Talking Image Connection reading series.


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