Five New Poems by Rachel B. Glaser

The asses of teenagers

the sun warms the asses of teenagers
teenagers have no idea where the day will take them
but we have a pretty good idea
the sun passes over our asses
easily resisting them
across the street, long grass sways in the sun
our asses are freezing in fake denim jeans
and layers upon layers of scratchy discount long johns
teenagers flash their asses outside the movie theater at night
blinding deer and making friends
we just keep using our asses for sitting
but teenagers are beyond their asses
wading through a sea of ideas
their boredom is pure and crystalizes
while our boredom stops up the sink
and wears down watch batteries
the sun sees in teenagers something to warm
and pulls them towards the unpopulated, interesting corners of town
while the unforgiving cold ushers us back into our cavernous apartments
to sit on our asses and stress about life

 

It is illegal to like you

I am a hermit glued in a castle
and you, a former Taliban photographer
studying bullshit abroad

I must be the daughter of someone important
because I wear a headdress
I languish and parts of me die
on hold for Quest Diagnostics

I listen to your heart and hear nature’s fucked clock
I read you easily like a book with a low reading level
or baby Suess’s scribbled journal

you look like a meter with the coin stuck in the slot
you slip through my fingers like sand from a souvenir

random habits you’ve picked up and kept
sit inside you like strangers on a bus

behold your future, that thing obstructing the sun
and your past, a tedious board game played as punishment

I receive you resolutely
the way I carry recycling out
I take your hand
like a squid missing from the aquarium

your disdain is Disdain 101
a class I placed out of in high school

your tears are worth something
they make my thighs feel like swan meat
and thunder

I requill my own sex-history into striped bed sheets
a teenaged sticky thinking
I tell the story of the Jews
to a distracted hanger-on

when I was small I met my dark side under a lake
I wrote your name in the snow with my Ouija shoe
I heard your hair in the night

but now
your eyes benign heat seekers
the day, a discount ribbon

I ruin my fingers and decent pre-childbirth body
paraphrasing another woman’s manifesto
while my ferret eats through my cords

the tree looked like an old wizard dying at an art museum
wake up and be him
I demanded of you
wrap your robes tightly
curse the sand in your lenses

remember me like the doll you had
before your Dad beheaded it

 

He’s got a huge soho loft, but no dick

he’s got a really big vocabulary but no dick to speak of
he’s got a motorcycle parked in the garage
but still…
he’s never had a dick or lost it?
I’m in his loft, like where is it?
he shows me his watch collection
his high thread count
he has a valuable stock portfolio
I left feeling amiss
I called my friend
He’s got a great personality but no dick, I said
Front row tickets to the concert, but…
he called and I put my friend on hold
he said, I have something for you
I said, Did I leave my bag?
he said, Yes, you left your bag
but I have something else to show you
and I felt a ripple of life within me
I walked hurriedly back to his loft
Look, he said holding it in his hands
it twisted around his arm
its little tongue felt like sandpaper
It’s endangered, he said
It’s my brother’s, he admitted
it pumped with air
it curled like smoke
I’d never seen anything like it
What is that? I asked
ready for love

 

My naked princess

you have the right face for everything
except charity work
except zookeeper

 

What I’m gonna do to you

first I’m gonna strip you of your stupid clothes
then I’m gonna check my phone for new texts
then I’m gonna check out Pippi Longstocking’s Wikipedia page

first I’m gonna get naked
then I’m gonna pace like a security guard
then I’m gonna RSVP to my friend’s baby shower (you don’t have to go)

first I’m gonna take your dick in my mouth
then I’m gonna complain about my job at Urban Outfitters

I’m naked
and crawling toward you
but I gotta take out recycling
floss
pay Comcast bill
return library book
call my Mom back

let’s do it
after I return that picture frame at Target
wash the yams
fix clogged drain in shower

I want you naked and hard
then I’ll clean crumbs off the counter

I want you tied to the bedposts
high off dick pills
hungry for pussy
then I’ll tell you a funny thing my friend said
and write in this Thank You card to someone’s Nanna

 

 

Rachel B. Glaser is the author of Pee On Water, MOODS, and Paulina & Fran. These poems appear in her forthcoming collection HAIRDO from Song Cave (Spring 2017).