Chris Tusa Poems
|1.||Botticelli’s Venus Tries To Forget||7/9/2005|
|2.||The Birth Of Night||7/9/2005|
|3.||Fairytale Of Fear||7/9/2005|
|5.||Photograph Of A Missing Girl In A Barbershop Window||5/4/2005|
|6.||The Disappearing Act||6/11/2005|
|8.||Inventing An End||6/11/2005|
|9.||The Ballad Of Leander Trueblood||7/13/2005|
|10.||Kindergarten Portrait Of My Mother At Mardi Gras||6/11/2005|
|11.||Ode To Cancer||7/9/2005|
|12.||Snow White, To The Prince||6/11/2005|
|13.||Christmas In The Psych Ward||7/9/2005|
|14.||The Sky Is Falling||6/11/2005|
|16.||Ode To Gumbo||7/7/2005|
|17.||Fear Of Weather||6/11/2005|
|19.||The Tooth Fairy On Welfare||7/7/2005|
|20.||A Retired Voodoo Priestess Dreams Of Revenge From The Psych Ward In Charity Hospital||7/8/2005|
|22.||In A Marriage Certificate||5/4/2005|
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 ...
The Birth Of Night
The earth was without form, and void;
and darkness was on the face of the deep.
-Genesis 1: 2
When the earth was merely a lump of phlegm
sticky in the hollow of God’s throat,
silence wheezed and I was born,
dark and clean, a black breath sucked deep