Two Poems
by Dax Carswell
Ode to starting a Master’s Program Homeless
Breathe in,
Breathe out. Catalyze the
Cries. Don’t wait too long to
Tear up—space them evenly,
Find purchase in soft faces,
And make easy foreign homes.
Monitor the amount of classes,
Sign documents, have lunch at The cafe near the university Half pique, half plaque.
I can’t host,
But will happily travel—
Keep grindr open for change,
Spare or solid. The luggage is kept
In my locker, at the gym,
Where I shower.
Get some sleep before a meeting grab a suit that isn’t crinkled and shoes not scuffed.
If he asks you where you live,
There’s no point in lying.
Hope that at some point lust
Metabolizes into pity—
“I’m in between houses right now.”
What do you hope for? What do you receive?
The blank stare and silence,
The offers of housing. You want to believe.
The dependency grows weary
Like the sapling that dies with but one day of sun.
Pack up the bags,
And set them in the hall.
Sit down for the meeting with coffee and an unfinished copy of Oblivion.
The receptionist stops to say,
Humming along the way:
“You're third place in the queue, but I'll get right back to you—
just sit and stay a while, as I have some phones to dial
—but as soon as I'm through,
I'll get right back to you.”
Days spent in waiting, the fogginess of listings,
You think: what could she know? How
Could this book be so good? Each story manages
To cover a little more of life, and get
A little bit closer to what I’m looking for and eventually
there isn’t anything left to say
but
“oh”
“At least he went for it.”
List of things done waiting on a stipend
Eating popcorn one kernel at a time.
Counting squares of toilet paper.
The rationing of lube.
Deciding it would be cheaper to grow your own oats.
Wondering how much you could earn in a night.
Getting a fee waiver for an orgy,
And your card declined at the bar.
Dreaming of him lying awake,
Without any money, conquering.
Reading his messages for inspiration,
And to keep the stomach full.
Feeling the warmth of the night,
The plentiful sweat it brings.
Counting and measuring the organs, one-by-one,
Each strand of hair and eyelid is worth,
Enough for one more day.
Cough up yesterday’s meal,
Call the remnants of wealth.
Know that he misses you,
But does not forgive you.
ABOUT THE CREATOR
Dax Carswell is a man in his mid-20s. He enjoys real time strategy games, mythology, kickboxing, dive bars, and the male form. A full-time student, his work focuses on the areas of intersection between Religion and Poetry throughout the ages. He's currently obsessed with the music of William Onyeabor and Jeffrey Lewis, and anything Mark Duplass is in.