TWO POEMS by MICHAEL BROOKBANK

single dad entanglement

physicists discovered the universe

isn’t locally real like how i only exist

every other weekend. if divorce were

easy, everyone would do it. but no one

asks you enough of the right questions

like “sure but are you okay?” me?

if i’m going to be perceived then

of course... i’m fine. i’ve been shot

with 192 lasers. gained a megajoule

without any risk of fallout. i’m calling it

a breakthrough: some father/son bonding.

my therapist says i’m insightful. i’m trying

to be honest. i started running to clear

my head. there’s too much uncertainty

without him home. i become a racing blur.

simultaneously alive and dead, like the cat

who sleeps in his room next to his bed or

his slowly deflating birthday balloon barely

floating above the dinner table. did you know

we’re running out of helium? another reminder

the world i’m sharing with him won’t stop

spinning. entanglement is my only escape.

at 3 years old, he can’t say “yesterday” so

he tells me what he did with his mom during

the “last days.” how much does he know?

what unlearning will come from me?

when i enter his room, he stops what he’s doing.

even photons change their behavior as you

observe them. oh, how cliche! i’ve compared

my child to light. but how sweet to not miss

the darkness of misbehavior elsewhere.

a reality not at home with me.


Please

I want to see you

disappear but not in rapture.

One earring left behind

could undo the moving on

I’ve done. The smallest

hint of your perfume; the smell

before forty days of rain.

I want to text you but I don’t

know if you should think of me or

know I was thinking of you.

All the possibilities. Many worlds.

They’re all flooded with the way

you used to say my name.

In this reality, I can’t forget

the weight of your body, smiling

with your hair in my face.

If you had vanished then

it would have been mercy.


Michael Brookbank (he/him) is a writer from Kentucky, just across the river from Cincinnati, OH. His work has been published in Sugared Water and Bullshit Lit, among others. He likes to run along the river and go on hikes with his son when not writing. You can find him on Instagram @michaelbrookbank and X @michaeljohnpoet.

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A THING by KATH RICHARDS

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TWO POEMS by M.V. RIASANOVSKY