Jeffrey Skinner

Throw it All Away
December 16, 2011 Skinner Jeffrey

Throw It All Away


My granddaughter who.  The one alive in speech descends.  A plate

for Cali, a plate for Paul.  The party of the first part, fallen asleep.

How I wish, love, you know—we trade seed packets, we measure the

silt turned dawn.  Listen, when I stayed at the YMCA it was sadness

married to a joke.  It was frozen condiments, salt-packed meats,

ethnography of the failed.  Guess what: I’m thinking of a John

Ashbery from one to a hundred.  No grandchildren there.  But a

singular guitar, picked like a nose, a duck-like pluck.  We learn other

ways to be beautiful, don’t we?  And still the pure mouth, the child

going away. A handprint works its silence down the chimney. Rain

makes the lake a hammered steel.  Granddaughter, pushing a blanket

through the bars of political speech.  Poetry a wind to lift new bodies

from the earth.  A happiness, a leaving.

Jeffrey Skinner‘s new book of poems, Sober Ghost, will be out in May of 2024.   Other of his work appears most recently in Volt and Action, Spectacle.