Christine Kanownik     


What is left

Poems about the Earth


What is left 

of skull, of human
when years happen too often
come after you too fast
since we think we 
are the same everyday
but, really, we are pickled
then unpickled slowly 

the sweet sound of sunrise
crashing through your dreams
dream nights and your dream days

you tattoo my name or face on your thigh
your thigh will age
my face will age on both our bodies
my name, though, is immortal

I am sexually satisfied by the thought of people saying my name ten years from now

does it break? 
it doesn't break
but let's say it does breaks
let's say that something breaks
and it cannot be fixed

and we were looking at it while it broke
we had nothing to do to with the breaking
but we were both present and observing
do we blame ourselves?
it is our fault
and we must make restorations for any damages
we must seal the day up to protect it from ourselves


Poems about the Earth

I think about you a lot

when I'm slicing into a grapefruit
and digging out the grapefruit
flesh with a spoon 

or when I'm chopping
an onion incorrectly

or juicing
orange after orange
to make orange juice

I can no longer
digest any of this

but I like to leave it
outside your door

in case you get hungry


Christine Neacole Kanownik is founding editor/curator of The Electric Pumas, a poetry and digital media series. You can find her work in such places as: The Huffington Post, jubilat, MOTHERBOARD, EOAGH, H_NGM_N, and The Poetry Project Newsletter. She lives in Brooklyn.