Flapper Press is proud to present three poems by poet Rachel Holman. Rachel is a New Englander who is developing her style in free form poetry. Her themes involve the intertwining of the human condition, the environment, and urbanization. One of her goals is to publish a collaborative urban/small-town–based poetry book.
Gold
I took the gun,
I stole the token.
Found the treasure,
In a man full coven.
What do you mean?
I asked the stones,
Lead me to you
In bothered dial tone.
So when they ask You,
“Where’s the gold?”
Smile and nod,
I’m too dumb to cure you
Something about Pearl Street
There’s something about Pearl Street
That you suspected. It gets warm and chilly too When the tree’s frown upon you.
You look to disengage them,
That look you wear too clear.
Means nothing to us in clue,
We see it through and through.
See I feel fine on Pearl Street
Despite the gawking.
From open shutters up ahead, I imagine you’d like me dead. You wonder why I return Day after day in the winter. Means nothing to me despite A long thorough walk on Pearl Street.
In Demand
The last thing we want is A seasonal stutter; With shutters closed and food
Born to incubators;
Babies made in batches
With overdone varnish.
Brave the winter you might
But chose microwaveable.
Continue to demand
In press our cold complaints,
In hopes the sleeping rose
Maybe forced to awake.
I protest the frigid gods, and know my Pleas of warmth will be honored through dollars.
Winter is no match for big brother.
We took to the streets in Hordes of desperation,
Demanding the powdered
White be long forgotten. The at peace ground hog torn
To shreds like fast fashion,
While masses and masses
Soak in the commotion.
And those babies home grown
Now droop like off season;
While the chemical balance
Seems violently altered,
It’s been guaranteed by big brother That inside our bubble, spring is in demand and here to stay.
Read Elizabeth Gracen's interview with Rachel Holman here.