Beth Gylys

Tilted toward Bad Ends

All of it wrong, off, the paint
spilling onto the baseboard,
the table stained too dark,
some stale smell in the pantry
with no source. Your ass
keeps getting bigger, you think,
and look again in the mirror
as if that’s going to help.
Words slip from your brain.
You say soap instead of banana.

Though everyone argues it’s not
true, you know you’re lazy. Everyone
doesn’t get it. You think about that
and think about that: how you could
help them understand, spelling it
in all caps, or standing on a chair,
waving your arms like a conductor.

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Beth Gylys is an award-winning poet and professor of creative writing at Georgia State University. Her 4th collection of poetry, Body Braille, was recently released by Iris Press. Her other books include Sky Blue Enough to Drink, Spot in the Dark, and Bodies that Hum; she has also published two chapbooks, Matchbook and Balloon Heart. Her work has appeared in Rattle, Barrow Street, Paris Review, Verse Daily and many other journals and anthologies.