Nathan Spoon

Two Poems

Winter Sunlight

 

This morning, when I rose from a night of sleeping,

there was a giant in my orange and a yeti in my cereal.

There was also a werewolf in my coffee. I am not even

kidding when I say that there was a terrible creature,

all bulbous and scaly, hunkered beside me and growling

painfully as I stood at the sink alone brushing my teeth.

 

Nobody likes a monster. There I was surrounded by

so many it would have been impossible to chase them

off. So I climbed into the seat of my car and drove

to the office where I work. Along the way I dropped

several chimeras clustered in the backseat off, as they

each had places to go and people to afflict despite how

 

I was not the Uber driver they had mistaken me for.

There were no harpies crashing my workday, for which

I am thankful, even though I signed a few birthday

cards to members of my department I do not yet know.

I ate lunch alone, which was fine, as it gave me time to

begin writing a poem. People like poems that I write

 

in the middle of doing something more important or,

at least arguably, more necessary. I was listening to

Good Morning, Captain by Slint as I searched for a place

to put a pin in what I was not saying. My hands were

practically floating over the innocence of my keyboard

as I wondered was I drifting in or out of another dream?

 

 

Until

 

We | thought the most viable monster was

as unknowable as unnamable. When

 

we saw it consuming the tender hearts of art

we shivered and cried out in horror. The monster,

 

in all its immense grotesquery, was ourselves

and the hearts being eaten belonged, for all the ways

 

they were sweating through our files, to each

of us. We were | alive with a need for seeing

 

our own harmonies deepen by becoming somehow

more real. The proof was in the depth of love we held

 

for one another. Was it possible to meet a monster

both namable and knowable. We didn’t know.

 

We were grateful for mindsets extending their safety

throughout our lives at what baffling turns they could.

 

Nathan Spoon is an autistic poet with learning disabilities and low academic fluency whose poems have appeared in the publications Poetry, Mantis, Harvard Divinity Bulletin, The Scores, Oxford Poetry, The South Carolina Review, and elsewhere. His debut collection, Doomsday Bunker, was published in 2017. He is editor of Queerly

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