Two Poems


Christie Towers is a poet living in the Boston area. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Poetry at the University of Massachusetts, Boston. Her work can be found in Narrative Magazine, the Ohio Edit, SummerStock and Reality Hands.


 

PYRITE

 

The first poems I ever wrote for you,

you requested. And now we’re texting

about the weather and the animals

we see — wild ones. The latch-key

cats of our neighboring streets. Thought

lucky, bell-less, hunting. I’m wondering

if I’m looking for a mother — or a lover

who can reprimand me? I’m thinking

about the thigh above your knee but

text you a picture of a tree instead.

The red sun behind it. Can you imagine

using a stone for a mirror? I ask, not

because I find your face implacable,

I ask because I’ve been told it’s

possible. Read it on the internet —

When kept in a pocket, pyrite

is a unique protector. Trickster gold,

but only if it stops you from looking.

The sun isn’t hungry for anything. Only feeds

and feeds us. The field that borders

our city is never empty, though it appears

this way sometimes.

 

 


 

 

SOLSTICE POEM

 

Woke up three times with a poem in my mouth—

lost it. How the churches visit us. Movable bodies,

wounded and flexible. I’ll wait in the car while

everyone else leaves. Worry about what to wear

and always wear the same thing. Last year, on this day:

fudgesicles and cigarettes and I was in love

with someone else. Her thighs heavy enough

to capsize a heart. Standing in water, not wanting me.

Some thighs are heavier than their body. A warning:

my tongue, in the morning, is downy, velvet.

The wet lawn where we wake is always wet.

 

 


About

Christie Towers is a poet living in the Boston area. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Poetry at the University of Massachusetts, Boston. Her work can be found in Narrative Magazine, the Ohio Edit, SummerStock and Reality Hands.