Michael Leong is the author of two books of poetry e.s.p. (Silenced Press, 2009) and Cutting Time with a Knife (Black Square Editions / The Brooklyn Rail, forthcoming) and two chapbooks The Great Archivist’s / Cloudy Quotient (Beard of Bees Press, 2010) and Midnight’s Marsupium (Forks, Knives and Spoons Press, forthcoming). His translation of the Chilean poet Estela Lamat I, the Worst of All was published by BlazeVOX [books] in 2009. He lives in New York City and blogs at michaelleong.wordpress.com and bigother.com.

Michael Leong is the author of two books of poetry e.s.p. (Silenced Press, 2009) and Cutting Time with a Knife (Black Square Editions / The Brooklyn Rail, forthcoming) and two chapbooks The Great Archivist’s / Cloudy Quotient (Beard of Bees Press, 2010) and Midnight’s Marsupium (Forks, Knives and Spoons Press, forthcoming). His translation of the Chilean poet Estela Lamat I, the Worst of All was published by BlazeVOX [books] in 2009. He lives in New York City and blogs at michaelleong.wordpress.com and bigother.com.

Michael Leong is the author of two books of poetry e.s.p. (Silenced Press, 2009) and Cutting Time with a Knife (Black Square Editions / The Brooklyn Rail, forthcoming) and two chapbooks The Great Archivist’s / Cloudy Quotient (Beard of Bees Press, 2010) and Midnight’s Marsupium (Forks, Knives and Spoons Press, forthcoming). His translation of the Chilean poet Estela Lamat I, the Worst of All was published by BlazeVOX [books] in 2009. He lives in New York City and blogs at michaelleong.wordpress.com and bigother.com.

I have looked into Emily Post and come away with the following example of an apology: “My gardener has just told me that our chickens got into your flower beds. I hope they have not done a great deal of damage.” I hope it suffices. Let me add that traditionally, I have considered self-control the appropriate and reasonable accessory: every careerwoman should have some. But lately I have been carrying out experiments to test my hypothesis: the journals all encourage it. So here: try it yourself. Take a slice of fresh multigrain bread. Wait by the toaster and smell the hot deaths of falling crumbs until your slice is golden brown. Catch the moment in its pop-up when it hangs in the air, that millisecond of hover. Lavish it with butter left to soften on the counter. The cream soothes clustering holes – be careful not to drip. Now pick it up, place it just inside your teeth. Hold it there gentle as a hunting dog with a duck. Walk around your house, toast suspended. Pick up some laundry. Polish a baseboard. See how long it takes before your jaws crunch of their own accord, little spurts of grateful acid rushing to meet your tongue.

Jaime Warburton (MFA, Sarah Lawrence) teaches in the Writing Department of Ithaca College, where many people bring their dogs to work. Jaime has a cat, though, and leaves her at home. Her writing has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Sotto Voce, The Broome Review, Storyscape, and The Collagist; she is the author of the poetry collection Note That They Cannot Live Happily (Split Oak Press).

This aroma does not need therapy
This air does not need conditioning
This occasion is not special
This fashion is not a statement
This center is not correctional
This reaction is not equal nor opposite
This attention deficit is not a disorder
This story is not short
This figure is not literary
This narrator is not reliable
This space is not public
This rock is not a star
This shock is not therapy
This condition is not human
This motion is not a picture
This war is not revolutionary
This illusion is not optical
This universe is not parallel

Michael J. Alfaro

This poem first appeared in Palabra.