Two Poems, Nick Boyer

To whom it may concern:

I hope all is well. I am writing to follow up on my application for felicity. I spend my days counting the seconds between lightning and thunder, so feel free to contact me anytime.

I applied for the emotion 22 years ago and still have the paperwork (I can attach the certificate in a message if you’d like). See my attached resume for several examples of how bliss has escaped me throughout my tenure here.

Now, I am not a blind man; I see the efforts that were made. But I am still in the cycle, and recently, I have begun to feel less than a gear. And today, today is not a good day. 

I see you brought everything you have; tossing buckets on my window, dimming the day, and laying collared shirt pelts on the path to prosperity. I do not want to prosper, I want to be pacified. I am here, but that is all.

I think about the stale rain droplets all day; I feel for them. They are stagnant and waiting. Are they living in ecstasy? Can you at least answer me that? Are my fingernails in the crevices of my couch glad?

Again, I am writing to follow up on my application. Considering the reasons I listed above, I believe my request for felicity is due. I will follow up in another five years, but after that, who knows? You, probably.

Sincerely,

Nick Boyer

Questions I will ask later

Jogging gray gravel split by yellow paint

Do you feel my feet?

Thin gray cloud puffed and erased

Am I breathing?

Swirling liquid brown old leather couch aroma

Can you warm my insides?

Inked pages passing shreds of the message

Would you spill your secrets?

Honeycomb lungs

Why do I scar you?

Harmony of strings and percussion

Can you feel my beat?

Passing faces shrouded in the day’s mask

Is the mirror clean?

Good sense giggling and grazing legs

Why must I raise my voice?

Pentagon of limbs

Which direction is it now?

Howling city folk

Did you forget the forest?

Untrained steps

Why do I fear you in my sleep?

Black canvas

Why did I only bring ink?

Muse

Why do I feel uninspired?

Flaking ceiling 

Would you hold until I blink?

Bloodied lamb

Why do you look tasty?

Shriveled plant

Why do I pluck you?

Imperfect time

Why do I try to set an alarm?

Vibrant vision

What is your cost?

Mortician 

Can you open my eyes once more?

Nick Boyer is an emerging poet writing in Upstate New York. He recently self-published his debut novel, Steady Progress Home, and his poetry has been published in Taj Mahal Review. More of his writing can be found on the web at poetryforthegrave.com or @poetryforthegrave on Instagram.