Jennifer Metsker

excerpt from “Psalms of Lament for Divine Imperatives”

I live in            a poorly painted container.    There are
worlds inside   that might be non-consensual.
You    the trying heart     You      the washed-out  faded
weather      You    the glass blower       You  the imbecile   
tower      You           the earmarked   battle ram.
You say there is ocean joy      and ocean breeze.      
Which one will be more pleasing?                             
The shipment sent to me was      not quite the right thing.  
So I sent it back.
Without a doubt         this was    the best way to proceed.
It wasn’t the color or the size. It was how it unanchored me.
How long must I be alive?
This is the question that it asked me.
May I return   to that gentle time       when
actions made sense in astro-turf
on the patio     wearing goody two shoes?     
Technology is talking.             It reaps the benefits of
all of our listening.      Thunderstorm. Spacedeck.
What do I own of you?           What do you own of me?
I can’t confirm if a stamp is needed on this package       but
there are twelve kinds of trees that     want relief.

Jennifer Metsker is the author of the poetry collection Hypergraphia and Other Failed Attempts at Paradise, which won the Editor’s Prize from New Issues Press. Her poetry has appeared in Beloit, Rhino, Birdfeast, Gulf Coast, The Cream City Review, and other journals. Most recently her work can be found in The Dialogist, Four Way Review, Pigeon Pages, and THE SHORE. She lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan, where she is the Writing Coordinator at the Stamps School of Art and Design.