Neat
BY JAMAAL MAY
My back bends like a bridge over water
onto the overhang of a circular bar
in the center of a bar. From this angle
no one above me is visible.
Hidden by the overhang of a circular bar,
lies a man who’s seen the bottom of his tumbler.
No one is above being invisible,
not even me, with my shirt tidily pressed,
another man who’s seen the bottom of a tumbler.
Each swirl of scotch nudges closer to the rim.
Not even my shirt will stay tidy and pressed,
my tie cinched and secure. It’s waiting to unravel.
Each swig of scotch nudges me closer to a rim
every day. Drops roll off the cliff of my parted lips.
My tie cinched and secure, I’m waiting to unravel,
waiting to steal sleep—joints sore with memory.
Day drops off a cliff. My lips part,
I drool on scuffs and bruises from boot and heel.
What I spill seeps, joins the floor’s memory
of fools who try, who hide in the light.
I’m all scuffle and bruises barely healed.
A swallow of whiskey won’t drown my questions
about a fool trying to hide in the light.
Why do I dress this precise?
Swallow whiskey? Drown in questions?
Why a beard so prepared, ensemble so neat?
Why dress with precision?
Why bother to drag a razor through the shadow
of a beard, prepare, assemble, neatly
tie a loop with no beginning or end, only
to be a bother, draggled, a razor thin shadow,
meeting no one here? The bar’s arc
forms a loop with no beginning or end, only
interrupted by the hunches of our bodies--
a meeting of no-ones, here at the arc of a bar
that bends my back like a bridge over water.
My back bends like a bridge over water
onto the overhang of a circular bar
in the center of a bar. From this angle
no one above me is visible.
Hidden by the overhang of a circular bar,
lies a man who’s seen the bottom of his tumbler.
No one is above being invisible,
not even me, with my shirt tidily pressed,
another man who’s seen the bottom of a tumbler.
Each swirl of scotch nudges closer to the rim.
Not even my shirt will stay tidy and pressed,
my tie cinched and secure. It’s waiting to unravel.
Each swig of scotch nudges me closer to a rim
every day. Drops roll off the cliff of my parted lips.
My tie cinched and secure, I’m waiting to unravel,
waiting to steal sleep—joints sore with memory.
Day drops off a cliff. My lips part,
I drool on scuffs and bruises from boot and heel.
What I spill seeps, joins the floor’s memory
of fools who try, who hide in the light.
I’m all scuffle and bruises barely healed.
A swallow of whiskey won’t drown my questions
about a fool trying to hide in the light.
Why do I dress this precise?
Swallow whiskey? Drown in questions?
Why a beard so prepared, ensemble so neat?
Why dress with precision?
Why bother to drag a razor through the shadow
of a beard, prepare, assemble, neatly
tie a loop with no beginning or end, only
to be a bother, draggled, a razor thin shadow,
meeting no one here? The bar’s arc
forms a loop with no beginning or end, only
interrupted by the hunches of our bodies--
a meeting of no-ones, here at the arc of a bar
that bends my back like a bridge over water.
JAMAAL MAY is a Cave Canem Fellow, Callaloo Fellow, and student in Warren Wilson’s MFA for writers. He is the author of a poetry chapbook (The God Engine, Pudding House Press, 2009) and editor of the Organic Weapon Arts Chapbook Series. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Callaloo, Indiana Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, Blackbird, and Verse Daily among other magazines and anthologies. May has received two scholarships to the Bread Loaf Writers Conference, an International Publication Prize from Atlanta Review, and he was a finalist for the 2010 Ruth Lilly Fellowship. Recently, he was named the 2011-2012 Stadler Fellow at Bucknell University.
May is a two-time Rustbelt Regional Poetry Slam Champion, two-time Detroit Slam Champion, five time team member, and two-time Individual World Poetry Slam finalist. He has coached three Brave New Voices youth slam teams and teaches poetry classes through the Inside Out Literary Arts Project.
May is a two-time Rustbelt Regional Poetry Slam Champion, two-time Detroit Slam Champion, five time team member, and two-time Individual World Poetry Slam finalist. He has coached three Brave New Voices youth slam teams and teaches poetry classes through the Inside Out Literary Arts Project.