Adam, the Big Shot. Tall and Kicked His Girlfriend.
after francine j. harris
This morning, I heard you broke two bones
in your girlfriend’s face.
I heard it while I was following a recipe for poached eggs. Stirring
my wooden spoon to brew a whirlpool in the boiling water, adding vinegar
when a friend broke the news like this:
you know. Adam. Moved to the city and became a big shot.
Tall. Red eyes. Well, he kicked his girlfriend.
I remember you deejayed my brother’s thirteenth birthday party
and you didn’t put your napkin on your lap at the Seder.
How you asked me to pour the Manischevitz without saying please.
Wouldn’t do it yourself. Adam. Moved to the city and now
he’s kicking women. I was thankful
that I didn’t own a gun. How easy it would be.
Big. Shot. I scooped the eggs from their vinegar bath
and laid six knives on the table.
Adam. Probably a sociopath. Tall and kicking
his girlfriend. I hated you—
your foot. Your rage. Your other parts that made you
a man. Tall. Red-eyed big shot. A yellow yolk bleeding
on my plate. Isn’t his brother getting married
next week? Bet he’s still gonna call him
Best Man.
Another adds she’s in the hospital. She’s not
pressing charges. I pepper everyone’s eggs with my own
conviction. Adam. The Best Man. Turn
your face into a dartboard so fast.
Sociopath. Couldn’t even fold a napkin.
Red bullseye. Mug shot. Not the boy who needed me
to pour him a glass. She has a glass
face, and you shattered it. Probably a sociopath.
Moved to the city and now he’s a sociopath.
My own red eye wanting nothing but more red.
Someone is saying they want you locked up and dropping
the soap. I laugh like a big shot. Justice— my favorite
kind of violence.
And shit, the phone is ringing.
Someone is leaving a message on the machine
for us all to hear— when the police answered the call,
they were so mean to Adam, your mother weeps,
they said the most awful things
to my baby.
by Megan Falley
This morning, I heard you broke two bones
in your girlfriend’s face.
I heard it while I was following a recipe for poached eggs. Stirring
my wooden spoon to brew a whirlpool in the boiling water, adding vinegar
when a friend broke the news like this:
you know. Adam. Moved to the city and became a big shot.
Tall. Red eyes. Well, he kicked his girlfriend.
I remember you deejayed my brother’s thirteenth birthday party
and you didn’t put your napkin on your lap at the Seder.
How you asked me to pour the Manischevitz without saying please.
Wouldn’t do it yourself. Adam. Moved to the city and now
he’s kicking women. I was thankful
that I didn’t own a gun. How easy it would be.
Big. Shot. I scooped the eggs from their vinegar bath
and laid six knives on the table.
Adam. Probably a sociopath. Tall and kicking
his girlfriend. I hated you—
your foot. Your rage. Your other parts that made you
a man. Tall. Red-eyed big shot. A yellow yolk bleeding
on my plate. Isn’t his brother getting married
next week? Bet he’s still gonna call him
Best Man.
Another adds she’s in the hospital. She’s not
pressing charges. I pepper everyone’s eggs with my own
conviction. Adam. The Best Man. Turn
your face into a dartboard so fast.
Sociopath. Couldn’t even fold a napkin.
Red bullseye. Mug shot. Not the boy who needed me
to pour him a glass. She has a glass
face, and you shattered it. Probably a sociopath.
Moved to the city and now he’s a sociopath.
My own red eye wanting nothing but more red.
Someone is saying they want you locked up and dropping
the soap. I laugh like a big shot. Justice— my favorite
kind of violence.
And shit, the phone is ringing.
Someone is leaving a message on the machine
for us all to hear— when the police answered the call,
they were so mean to Adam, your mother weeps,
they said the most awful things
to my baby.
by Megan Falley
Megan Falley is a full-time writer and teaching artist based in NYC. In 2012, her first collection of poetry, After the Witch Hunt, was published by Write Bloody Press. She was recently featured on TV One's Verses & Flow, a television show dedicated to showcasing the best in music and spoken word. In 2012 she represented New York at the National Poetry Slam as part of the legendary LouderArts Team. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Rattling Wall, Muzzle, Vinyl, PANK, The Nervous Breakdown, decomP, >kill author, The Literary Bohemian and more. Megan is available for performances, hosting, and workshops for all ages. For booking please contact [email protected].