Chris Tusa

Rookie (01.01,72 / New Orleans, Louisiana)

Best Poem of Chris Tusa

Alzheimer’s

My grandmother’s teeth stare at her
from a mason jar on the nightstand.

The radio turns itself on,
sunlight crawls through the window,

and she thinks she feels her bright blue eyes
rolling out her head.

She’s certain her blood has turned to dirt,
that beetles haunt the dark hollow of her bones.

The clock on the kitchen wall is missing its big hand.
The potatoes in the sink are growing eyes.

She stares at my grandfather standing in the doorway,
his smile flickering like the side of an axe.

Outside, in the yard, a chicken hops ...

Read the full of Alzheimer’s

Ode To Cancer

Imagine a tiny black flower,
the nurse says,
blossoming in your spleen.

Already, I can feel the radiation
burning in my bones,
the CAT SCAN machine
like a shiny white coffin.

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