2 Poems by Ezra Tiberius
Things We Don’t Talk About
the night your voice broke / when i asked why you loved me / and you said everything / the cornersto[r/n]e kiss / the atrophied plane ticket / your hands high-risen / how my name sounds when your mother says it / the name i helped you kill / the kill you didn’t finish / the time you cried afterwards / the time i cried before / residue on my tongue / when i taught you how to choke me / we craved a shy violence / the night[s] i got too drunk / all i wanted was to dance / the bottle you dragged me out of / what would have happened if you didn’t / watching you pray / holding myself quiet / your laugh shining through me / sharing smoke in your bed / we woke up too early / we waited too long
During Quarantine, I Wait for My Ex to Cancel Their Spring Wedding
maybe i’m just relieved i haven’t outgrown
my capacity to be petty,
that there are still ways to empty absurdly—
my guts, drugged, into
one of the many garbage cans
positioned strategically around myself lest
i vomit randomly // this disability, invisible until it
announces itself in all the ways you
disbelieved— does it even matter
how we hurt each other anymore?
everyone on the internet has suddenly realized
the people in prisons are people—
on TV cities bloom deceptively—
i watch too many shows where
fridges contain severed heads—
the whole world lacks its outlines—
the economy unbridles itself of us—
once i threw the ring i designed for you
towards a lawyer’s retainer // once i watched
your brother threaten his girlfriend
until it wasn’t a joke
listen, i wasn’t made to haunt you—
what is a warning if not an invitation?
what is a poem about us but a superstition?
something i don’t believe in anymore
something festering beyond itself