Four Poems by Brittany Sager

Entry No. 1

i met my alter ego the other day she was sitting on a metal bench with pink gum crusted on the top of it somewhere between Columbus Circle and Times Square and she was sitting on the bench taking a long hard drag of her cigarette that she rolled herself with careful precision and she was wearing a trench coat even though it was the middle of July but i guess it was a little cold for July i suppose but she sat there playing with her zippo and smoking her cigarette and looking all full of teenage angst and pre-teen bull shit so i sat down on this bench next to her and she didn’t seem to notice except to make sure to pretend not to notice and then she watched a pigeon dig its little beak in a crack on the sidewalk to get a piece of hot dog bun between the two cracks and this was when she kicked the bird and after she kicked the bird she smiled like it was the first time that she had ever even smiled and i got real upset i did i got real upset so i stood up all fast and said, “what’d you have to do that for? why’d you have to kick that bird? that bird didn’t do anything to you and that’s just downright mean and cruel and all thing unusual,” and she just looked at me with her almond brown eyes and cocked her head just a little bit to the right like she was trying to contemplate the fucking god damn mona lisa and after too many seconds of this of wasted time she looked at me and she said without any anger or any doubt or any subtlety she said, “i had to teach that bird a lesson for its own good you see, its own good and what a better lesson to teach it then how being naive gets you nowhere and thinking that everyone is nice and god will help you and the sun will come out another day is just a whole bunch of shit that we swallow each and every fuckin morning as we choke down a bowl of fuckin wheaties and so i thought what better lesson to teach this poor sweet innocent thing that believes in all this good and all this disneyland magic through its little beady eyes than teach it a lesson about hurt because i know that we’re all gonna hurt some day because everyones gotta hurt and so i did it a grand old favor and i taught it how to hurt so it would sting real bad this time but it’ll never have to hurt like that again, no, never like that again.


Dear

When I was twelve I believed in love because I saw it in Lifetime movies and mY great-grandmothers old kinky nOvels and I also believed in other things that didn’t seem very believable like dinosaURs and ColumBus because everyone said that textboOks were god but now they are just wastes of paper that I spend way too much money on because so-and-so of so-and-so big pRestigious column wrote it and that makes it a god Damn piece of art but I also use to believe in things like luck because I found a four leaf clover this one time whilE I was picking up chunks of grass from the earth at recess throwing them into the air and watching them float down like pieces of confetti in Times SquaRe and I thought that Times Square had to be the greatest place on earth with all its lights and sirens and happy people who would pee in bottles just to stand in that one Spot all day my dad told me just to see the big bAll drop from the tall tower and I thought man I really wanna be in that tower or maybe just a tower like it and I would be a big impoRtant pErson in a suit whoever it was who was big and important and wore suits but then I thought that I could do something really coOl like save the world Because every white middle class suburban female Teacher I ever had said that I could save the world because this was the American Dream and I was an American but I was confused because I thought that otheR kids in other coUntries had to dream at night too but my mother told me that I would make a great mother of a mother and that I could Swaddle a baby in my arms and call it mIne and have a big sturdy man with dark hair and long eyelashes to take Videos and portrait pictures with at those studios in Wal-Mart when I was a big girl she said, yeah when I was a big girl and now that I am finally here and I am finally a “big girl” I have nothing more or less or inbetweEn to say other than

Fuck.

your.

american.

dream.

                                                                                   ‘cause momma,

                                                                      I wanna be a poet.


Phone Calls and Bright Lights

Loud trains echo city distance

chromatics contradict height in unsteady crescendos

Delaware Bohemia.

his reach pressured

inner-illumination with pastors

singles out maps sighting measures

(((hhhhhhhh)))

bag pipers ceremony still     pressure

pressed     buzzzzzed     intertwined easy echoes

locus electrocution      percussion      radio interception at church

peaking cylinders in distance fade

in you     things under current

tinsel silt mouth

rapture poetry for cynics echoes Latin Giants

intervals call antimasque naked

ownerless I am out paradox oh

peaks tension     pressure breath waiting,

dust     and pressure

waiting.



Profile: Brittany Sager

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