Henry Finch
​

Two for the Road

If I were you, I would be
lined with barbed wire,
tumbling onto the floor. The end.
Pencils down. Throw the kitten
off of the bridge. Don’t take that road.
I need it. I’m guessing the wine is gone.
Beware the Cyclops and his sleeping
medication. You can’t fly. Not yet,
at least. You’re crazy for wanting to
fit that mattress up the stairs. She was
seeing somebody else. It wasn’t just
the angel changing down in your bedroom
window that moved away. Now it’s broken,
but that’s OK. The power was shut off
in the middle of the dance party
anyway, so everyone staggered home
to mold in their basements.

Phase Music

and it just feels great to miss someone again
and it just feels great
to miss someone and adjust
feels great to miss someone
and adjust feels great
and adjust feels great to miss
great to miss to grate too
too great an attitude to grate
ingrates and grate two etudes to miss
to tomb to miss me too
to miss me miss missile
missed someone is someone
and someone is with someone
to summon one I’m one again on one
again on again and get on
and get someone get on and get it
and get it and get it someone get on
someone again and it’s someone again
it’s just again adjust and get in
adjust feels grey I just feed the grey eels
and it just ends it adjusts
just end it did ya end it
did ya dit dah dit dah dit dit dit dit dah
did ya adjust and adjust it just adjusts
and ya feel it again and again and again

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HENRY FINCH was born in 1984 in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. His poetry appears in Prelude, Sugar House Review, The North American Review, The Massachusetts Review, The Seattle Review, jubilat, and many others. He is currently editing a translation of Urmuz's Strange Pages (Pagini bizare).