2 poems

By ash anderson

The Kinder High School for the Performing and Visual Arts

martyr

the church down the street is burning.

if you listen, you can hear the
stained carpet, baptized in gasoline,
singing its hymn of fire to the
pews, the walls, the rafters

smoke whispers prayers to the rose
window until it is black and covered
in soot, soon it will shatter
from the heat

tongues of flame devour
their communion of wallpaper
until there is nothing left
but bare-bones of the woodwork

in the pastor’s office
hundreds of sermons,
each meticulously reviewed and rehearsed
are cleansed to ash by the blaze,

the church down the street is burning
and it is closer to god
than ever before

Self-Portrait as No One

I have never understood mirrors,
or portraits,
Or resumes.
It seems an injustice to describe all of a human in such
simple terms.
And if eye color tells you anything about me,
Then
I am gallop and stallion.
I’m running water and river stones.
I’m mohawk and preppy.

I am the strumming of an intelligent shirker,
and the song of a dove in a hardware store.

I am the faded signature of an unsent letter
and the solemn rhythm of a cat tail

I’m the scissors that cut the last string you are gripping like dust grips old wood.
I’m the erratic heartbeat of fingertips before a forgotten test.
I’m neglecting the apple orchard I used to pamper.
I am the unparted waters of rivers Moses couldn’t tame.
I am the lull of a full room, and I am song lyrics you are forgetting.
I am bird and cage, hawk and hood.

I’m cracked glass,
And old music
And stubborn piano keys

I’m dissecting the stars but stopping halfway through when I realize
Just how many there are.

I’m the razor tongue of an experienced liar and
the ghost of the place you accidentally set at the table.

I am all these things and nothing
Like them,
Now,

tell me about yourself