FROM NOTHING GRANTED

who wants to be                                    why God doesn’t come
her neck                                   the light part       what was I
looking for before                  sky         what kind
do you mean       I wish for hands
the color of Houston summer
hands        walk into the garden             & attempt
to never forget to float                             that night I played her
three songs               then yeses               all morning
then the sun telling me                            I’ll never be big
boy      was she wrong
like an angel             time bows for me

.

.

FROM NOTHING GRANTED

Knees press in as I discover
how sunlit & coarse the bees’ murmuring,
sincere & almost here past the mint

clustered, the street. How close would you say this is
to complete? She’s engaged & how itchy the air.

We rose to it, held ourselves tight. Remember
the talk of the tips of our blades? Didn’t you feel
softened in the parking lot? Feel a flickering

fucked up. Angels of air, my selfish decisions,
angels of hope I’m forgiven. Exhale closer:

teeth hard to ignore as earth-
quakes, forgetfulness. I’m looking for you,
a failed invention. Rain & sorrow

take our kids. Every conversation starts
with fire, with I don’t need you to have fun. Oh,

the idea of water. Oh, let me sleep. Home is
the sound of your breathing. You run around
the city & make my chest rise.

.

.

FROM NOTHING GRANTED

Who is alone & down
to stare at the sky all day?
Here, have this blue bottle.
Something to hold. Act
like it’s gold, a little
piece of honey-
comb. Search for & attempt
a yes like velvet. What
kind is better? Are you thin-
king about flowers
or the color of hands? What
are the qualities of queen?
All morning I’ll never
forget what we wasted.

.

.


Anna Meister is an MFA candidate in Poetry at New York University, where she serves as a Goldwater Writing Fellow. A Pushcart Prize & Best of the Net nominee, her poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Barrelhouse, Prelude, Powder Keg, Vector Press, & elsewhere. A 2015 Saltonstall Foundation for the Arts Fellow, Anna lives & works in Brooklyn.