2 Poems by Gion Davis


Yellow pitcher in the sky pours onto swirl of primary colored flowers, against black background

soft obsessions

obsidian chips
in a dish on the dresser
burnt my finger
between the pot &
the kettle I retain
the right to observe
anniversaries of things
that no one else
cares about
pictures of us
looking very Y2K
kissing a stranger
in a living room
full of strangers
& now I know
them all
sitting awake
at the kitchen
table in the dark
imagining
disappearing
to start over
there’s someone
in my bed again
whose feelings seem
realer than mine
will I ever be
the kind of person
who doesn’t look
at the horizon
mid-conversation
the mountains
bruising blue
in the dusk in Colorado
the thin green line
between ground
& sky towards
Las Cruces
the holes
in my memory
shrinkwrapped
by time & loss
it’s about
avoidance
so this morning
please confront me

You might have to write it nicer than real life.

I find myself strolling past my own ghost & I keep my eyes down & walk
through her as though she isn’t the most important person in the world. Who
is trying to be the most important person in the world? A stranger beside me
cruising up Colfax sniffling about Ric Ocasek’s death & talking about my
sadness as if it’s a big animal that should stay outside, someone who says the
worst pain he’s ever been in was waking up with a sore neck two days ago &
saying I love you is like stuffing endless chocolate chip pancakes into a
screaming mouth along with freeways & cities & people & front yards full of
dahlias & cherry tomatoes & rented roller skates & jacket pocket candies &
plastic golden buttons & I feel my mind leave my body & come back again
in a bed uptown. I have stopped being angry & now I am tired. It might be
more poetic to say an octopus dreams about an ocean with no plastic in it but
the reality is she’s dreaming about catching crabs with her magic
camouflage. You can’t dream about what you don’t know. You can’t invent a
face you’ve never seen. Everything comes in threes including days. A home
improvement magazine hits the deck. A labradoodle eats fries out of its
owner’s mouth. Nic Cage’s stupid shirt in Raising Arizona. There’s a fire on
the mountain & in the dark in the car I can see trees crowning brighter than
stars & love is standing behind someone forever & the moon is another place
I’ll never go.

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Gion Davis is a poet from northern New Mexico where she grew up on a sheep ranch. Her poetry has been featured in The Vassar Review, Blush Literary Journal, Sybil Journal and others. She has received the Best New Poets of 2018 Prize selected by Ocean Vuong as well as being shortlisted for the Peach Magazine Gold Prize selected by Morgan Parker. Her chapbook "Love & Fear & Glamour" was published in 2019. She graduated with her MFA in Poetry from the University of Massachusetts in Amherst in 2019 and currently lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Gion can be found on Instagram @starkstateofmind.
 
Basia Kurlender is a graphic designer, illustrator, t-shirt collector, lifelong New Yorker, friend to dogs, successful matchmaker, BFA recipient (Pratt ‘19), voice memo demo fanatic, recovering sign painter, Aquarius, skater, good driver, basement show attendee, jeans re-wearer, pickle maker, notorious one minute songwriter, loyal Craigslist missed connections reader, Simon & Garfunkel superfan, website owner (basiakurlender.com), instagram user (@bshawww), etc.