James Kelly Quigley
James Kelly Quigley’s poetry has received a Pushcart Prize nomination, as well as a nomination for Best New Poets. Recent work has been published or is upcoming in Narrative, Nashville Review, Puerto del Sol, The American Journal of Poetry, Tinderbox, and other places. He received both a BA and an MFA from New York University, where he taught undergraduate creative writing and served as Copy Editor of Washington Square Review. A finalist for a Brooklyn Poets fellowship, James was born and raised in New York, and lives in Brooklyn.
F,
The line is broken. Edged irretrievably.
Bludgeoned by ink on a certificate
with three names, one of which we share.
Shared. Shorn, your straight brown hair
into a zig zag. I came by to tell you
where the sidewalk ends. Turns out
it’s wherever the road insists.
I came by to unwrap your grandmother’s
rajas tamale like my grandmother’s
butterscotch. Oh, what braids they made of us.
I admit it: I would not have agreed to you.
Of course, no one took my feelings into account.
Now all I have of you is a goddamn feeling.
This burning pocket burning a hole in my pocket.
This plate translucent with grease at Chuck E. Cheese.
No one knows where the mistake of me leads,
but I’m certain it runs through you
like a transplant of marrow.
So I came by to give you these white papers.
Our voided contract. No—plane parts.
©2020 West Trade Review
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