Poem In Which I Walk Away In Slow Motion As If From An Explosion
here’s another act of consciousness—somebody
talking in a closed
space with a touch
of rabies—you need the foam
at the lips—that’s
where the trauma is—the open mic
mouth
[AS IN:] I woke
two mornings ago
to a gun battle
two blocks south
and thought I was dreaming
but the online groups says no—
it happened—
at precisely four-O-
four AM—
though I heard no sirens—
no getaway torque—
but there’s a foreboding now
in the drift—
the way this morning
I walked streets—not river trail—
to the city—then felt
a strange
congruent violence
settle in
[AS IN:] I should carry
a Phillips head now
or short-bladed knife—as if I were
a samurai
of the tool box
and could actually fight back—
not curl instantly—a defeated
heap
in yesterday’s clothes
I’m wearing today
but with hope
for transcendence in them
[AS IN:] more and more lately
I am a wired nest
of emotions—C4 pronged
and packed—
doing the ordinary work of living—
one hand
on the deadman switch—hanging
laundry—how else
to blend in—to feign the peaceful-
I-mean-no-harm-
domestic-form-of-feeling-terror—
T-shirts
rainbow-snapped—clipped—center
mass—a perfect row of gun range targets
Synapse
DENNIS HINRICHSEN’S most recent book is Dominion + Selected Poems which appeared fall 2024 from Green Linden Press. His previous books include Flesh-plastique, schema geometrica and [q / Lear], all from Green Linden as well. He lives in Lansing, Michigan where from 2017-2019 he served as the area’s inaugural Poet Laureate.
Midwest Review 