Poem of the Week: December 2nd, 2013

Eszter Takacs, one of our Pushcart Prize nominees, provides our poem of the week. She’s currently an MFA candidate and Graduate Teaching Assistant at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. More of her work can be found in burntdistrict Volume 2 issue 1, Winter/Spring 2013.

By Eszter Takacs

I am going through an arterial phase
of obsession, like reading instructions
before you open the box and take a look
at the parts, individually wrapped bones.
This weak thing inside is heavy
like a heart but it is something else really.
I am dressed generally well, groomed
and looking around all the time
trying to understand love but can’t.
All I see are large people tall as the sky
with their clean white faces
held together by air, by distance
that hasn’t thought of itself yet.
All of the boyfriends I have met talk
about living like it’s the real thing to want,
you know, about buying the right bed
and living in that moment with the bed
or about buying the best kind of steak
for the summertime when parties happen
and life paddles along a slow river of itself.
Meat hogs, they are, these men and their
women just sit there with legs under
dresses, cold and soft, thoughtless like field cows
while I whisper questions into a cup
of yesterday’s coffee and await
the answers that are made of pearls
or diamonds for my cold cold neck.
I want them to be real. I want to win.

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