an upturned umbrella
in an open sigh
shivers by the door
a purple monkey
under my bed
wonders who's there
my mother sings
with hard-won, ironic fun
the commercial jingle
a strand of water
in my brother’s voice
crackles like ice melt
the door drums
wooden static
in my mother’s palms
my father’s fists
punch splinters
into my mother’s palms
the Undertaker
tombstones Chyna
on our muted TV
the chunky phone
tucked on her shoulder
falls to the floor
a fistful of dry pasta
snaps in a sharp gasp
sinks to a boil
Gilgamesh wrestles
Enkidu in a print
of a copied urn
in the fuzzy dark
a coarse knife cuts
a gray shard
in the iron window
a sealed eyelid
bulges dreaming
an Eminem album
claps my brother’s ears
to hold him in rhymes
Stone Cold crushes
a beer, while Shop-Rite
kicks off a can-can
laughs at the dancers
like someone exhaling
after very long
an open file
on my father’s computer
refuses to close
meltwater
asks me to cry
so he might hear
my purple monkey
mutters something
quiet as stuffing
It says he’ll stop
I’m the only one
he doesn’t hurt
the doorframe spits
white-painted splinters
by my mother’s ears
elbows to carpet
far ends of a hallway
my mother and me
Goku is dead
again; no one
is strong enough
it hangs forever
pointing down
to my mother’s palm
a strand of water
in my mother’s voice
isn’t my mother’s voice
Elias Baez is a poet & editor that lives in Baltimore, where he earned his MFA in Poetry from Johns Hopkins University. His poems have been published in Poetry, FENCE, Mantis, Rougarou, and The Broadkill Review. His chapbook Sweet 'n Low was published by Ghost City Press in 2021. A second chapbook, Barback, was published by Bullshit Lit in 2023. As founding Poetry Editor of GAYLETTER magazine, he has profiled many award-winning poets for a broad audience. He is currently working on his first book-length poetry manuscript.