San Marcos
Since I stopped the flow
Of primordial ciswhite straight men
Whom I heedlessly collect
And from whom the spring feeds
Without reason I have been
Shopping so much more
Than suits a prophet in the forest.
A man said he felt like an awful cad
But an admission as such
Does not irrigate a dry spell
Once it’s surpassed the length
Of a petty offense record
Because the body’s memory is not so
Mutated by language
And there’s very little pleasure in force
When the subject is inertia.
I used to leave as soon as
The mysterious chemistry worked out
Now I am both the one who leaves
And the one who stays
Eco-novelty is rare and common
And each design reforms
The future and the last.
Copyright Credit: Monica McClure, "San Marcos." Copyright © 2017 by Monica McClure. Used by permission of the author for PoetryNow, a partnership between the Poetry Foundation and the WFMT Radio Network.
Source: PoetryNow (2017)