Three Poems by Liz Mariani

What you said

What you said about the family reunion
Is exactly what you said when I begged
Cheese from sheep or cow for the froth
This narrative they keep heavy forging
We survive all electric categorizations
Shrink the story of three cities for these
Hydrogen continues to be two parts
The weather breathes a tortoise wind
Walk against a chirping gusting billiard
And trees for each color each hew


the cannoli myth
avoiding the ricotta
of giddy gossip
hallowed yawns
clipped swans
calloused limbs
gestational gluten
pull the Atlantic east
describing the grass
the pallet disowns


Contradicting snake tests weed the festering from the floor.
If you look up you’ll see a slanted linoleum sky.
But, if you look down, you’ll find your foot flesh has decomposed.
Leaving a skull foot thought walk where the ground used to be.


The Season of Okra in Question

Steel clenching into an aborted influenza percolating an updated vaccine.
Daylight assuming the position of gazing mulls into a sunflower waste.
We call this the winter of famine Okra. Will the printers press the ink?

It is the question. The question an answer takes.
Where will these vapid beings muster?
What transforms friction into a viola of complacency?

Is this the hunger sisters feel when offered a gilded rack of shade?
Or is this a tousled arboretum funneled into a mange of months?



Liz Mariani lives in Vermont. Her latest poems have been published in BlazeVOX, The Buffalo News, Artvoice, The Brooklyner, Fortunates and as part of The Tea Leaves Collection of Broadsides in collaboration with artist, Michael Morgulis.