Five Poems by J. Bradley

Be Sweet

Coffee is for closers. I sip
while watching you sleep.

I’m pretending to renovate
our relationship. I hope you like
the cheap drywall in your knees,
your new garbage disposal
of a throat.

After the diet succeeds,
I’ll poison your name
for the next one.

Dr. Sam Beckett Flirts With Anachronism

I wasn’t born to adore you.
I would grow mutton chops
and find my mother’s stomach
so I could tell myself I should be.

You are worth neighborhoods
unthreading, America still
under the Queen’s protection,
the Yankees never signing
Babe Ruth.

In this new time line, autumn
begins in June. I’ll bunker
myself in leaves, wait for you.

Charles Dickens Crushes On The Woman In The Sixth Row

I’m throwing away the cake,
cutting the molding limbs off
the bride and groom.

I rehabilitate my cursive, break
the ankle of my alphabet.

I throw open the French doors,
clear the room of names
and mistakes like cobwebs.

I’m waiting for the day
I get to work off the debt
of your smile. I’ll cut holes
in my pockets if I have to.

Logan To Orlando, Do You Read?

I want to know how you move
your hands after the third glass
of wine, the aftertaste of your coffee
without using a cup.

I’m playing limbo with future tense.
I hurt my back after round two.

Over the phone, we listen to each other
lash ourselves to whatever we’re sitting on,
wishing ‘I miss you’ was our jet fuel.

I won’t see an us. I’ll just see you.

Snidely Whiplash Waits For His Not So Blind Date

I want a handlebar mustache
so I can tie you to train tracks
and twiddle it while you plea
for mercy; I’ll save that
for our twelfth date.

I’ll tell my five-year-old self
to make you a mix tape
using his Casio keyboard.
All I could give you is tourettic
digital whale moans.

You are a punk rock show
in a stranger’s house.
I’m willing to go deaf.

Profile: J. Bradley

4 thoughts on “Five Poems by J. Bradley

  1. Pingback: She’ll Want To Argue About The Past « Failure Loves Company

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  4. Pingback: Unleash the Mistakes « Failure Loves Company

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