Issue > Poetry
Mitchell Andrew David Untch

Mitchell Andrew David Untch

Mitchell Untch is an emerging writer. Recent publications include Beloit Poetry Journal, Poet Lore, North American Review, Confrontation, Nimrod International, Natural Bridge, Owen Wister, Solo Novo, Knockout, Baltimore Review, Lake Effect, The Catamaran Reader, Grey Sparrow, Illuminations, Tusculum Review, The Tampa Review, Mudfish, Painted Bride Quarterly, Meridian, Chattahoochee Review, Tule Review, Tar River Review, Crab Creek Review, and Badlands among others.

Composition


I am made of handles
in the hallway
the bedroom door
opened and closed.

I am made of dark spaces
holes in conversations
that my mother and father have
in the kitchen.

I am the smoke from her lips.
I curl through cracks in the window.
I am my father's exit strategy.

I am made of grass.
In the backyard,
air that fills my mouth.
I am the blank stars I write on.

I am made of my sister's hair.
I fall across her shoulder
down the small of her back.
I am her first pair of nylons.

I am the fabric on her skin,
falling open like a curtain.
I am the hand behind it.

I am made of school
and Mr. Conner's gym shorts.
I rub the sky with my clipboard
and dictate the way things are.

I am the way things are.
I am forty years old.
I am the book I am reading.
I am its ending.

Symmetry


After you'd gone
our bodies
uncoupled in the dark
I lay in bed
and started to think of things
that are halved
apples     pears    seeds
and the knives that separate them
I thought of doors
half open half closed
their wide
unexpected swings
into the middle of rooms
how they halve distances
I thought of windows
invisible seams
that separate interiors
from exteriors
half journeyed
and half way there
I thought of your mouth
in the same breath
the other half of the world
half a shell lying on the beach
its smooth abandoned
chambers
filled half way with sound
half of me listening
half of me not

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