Couched by Michael Bazzett
Couched
by Michael Bazzett
I’m slouched
on the couch,
notebook propped
against belt buckle,
green tea cooling
in a celadon cup
because I’m more interested
in finding words
to speak to you
than drinking tea.
It’s a conundrum.
If I find adequate ones,
I’ll be positioned here
forever.
Which could be
strange for whoever
eventually moves into this house
or ends up with this couch
purchased for a song
because of the pensive
cadaver posed on its cushions.
If I don’t find adequate
words this never happened
and I am released to oblivion.
I don’t state this with the intent
of shining my poetic
shoes, like Ovid.
I’m simply dwelling
on how words might pin
some version of me
to this couch using threads
that stitch this here
into some small forever.
BIO:
?Michael Bazzett’s poems have appeared in West Branch, Beloit Poetry Journal, Best New Poets, Green Mountains Review, DIAGRAM, and The Los Angeles Review, among others. He was the winner of the 2008 Bechtel Prize from Teachers & Writers Collaborative and was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. New poems are forthcoming in Carolina Quarterly, Pleiades, Bateau, The COLLAGIST and The Literary Review. He lives in Minneapolis with his wife and two children.