:: Article

Three Poems

By J. Bradley.


As my friend pulled me away from the woman with coloring book arms, all I thought was “I love being in art galleries”.

I’ve explored rural galleries: butterflies pinned on the refrigerator door of lower backs, the outsider exhibitions mused by the gaping halo of broken bottles, the peel of bandages like a lonely ribbon cutting ceremony.

I fold the memories like a program, tear it into pieces, feed lovers the reproductions of spoiled canvases and hands. I’ll tell them they need no totems for me to lose myself in their wings and halls.


For The Skeleton Who Wanted My Ex-Wife’s Phone Number

Though she spreads like carrion,
the wake of your hands
will never know of her spoils.


Pictures of You

In the pit of my wallet,
our smiles, waists spread.

I once wanted your voice
to curl up in my stomach;
when I was hungry for you,
I thought of your words.

The jagged gums
of my shoulder, your hips,
gnaws at the grass.


J. Bradley is the author of Dodging Traffic (Ampersand Books, 2009) and the author of the upcoming flash fiction chapbook The Serial Rapist Sitting Behind You Is A Robot (Safety Third Enterprises, 2010). He is the Interview Editor of PANK Magazine and lives at iheartfailure.net.

First published in 3:AM Magazine: Thursday, October 7th, 2010.