Small Explosion

Small Explosion

By Jason Crawford

I wrote my every poem on the back of a bathroom stall of a dive bar in Lansing right after the boy told me he didn't love me anymore.

Have you ever seen a small explosion?
The moment when the correct chemicals react to one another
to start a fire?
I've released this energy
so many times in so many boys
I'm out of oxygen.
Do you know how to kill a flame?

I mean
I really shouldn’t be surprised
or upset
or act like we ever even gave a damn.
We fucked like we had an expiration date.
Like we knew we’d become sour milk.

Blessed
be the man whose hands were perfect
before they consumed me.
Before I gave myself as dinner plate

The true human curse is time.
Every second spent together
is 4 spent apart.
We sit in a room of clocks
playing a still game of chicken
wondering who would leave first.
This boy blew me on his couch in the middle of his living room.
I entered him in his bedroom
left pieces of me in him.
Spent more time
noticing the correlation of clocks on his wall
matching mine
for me to enjoy the bottom of his lip.
But got damn did it feel good
for him to gut me
splay me open as seafood.

I dreamt of you last night.
We sat in the same booth at Los Amigos.
You were drunk as ever.
Your hands were mine
and then were sand.
I looked up and your body
had turned to glass

a ticking time bomb
a wind sprint
us
they all end.
Maybe that’s why I keep
writing on the backs of doors
soon to be painted over
because when I return to them
you’ll be gone again.
Blessed
be the mouths of fire we kissed with whiskey.
Our teeth cradling every ignition.
Tongues craving every ice cube ember
Our love was a combustion of oxygen.
A rapid succession of
small explosions.
I remember falling into you like a sandbox in a rainstorm
and it was okay.
You collected my muddied hands
and turned them into sand castles.
But sand castles can only withstand
rain’s tidal waves for so long
before time pulls them back to the ocean.

You told me once I was beautiful
but you found smoke in my eyes.
Like a bomb had been left burning here.


Jason B. Crawford is black, bi-poly-queer, and a damn force of nature. In addition to being published in online literary magazines, such as BeLightFilled and The Knight’s Library, Jason is a recurring host poet for Ann Arbor OUTFest. He is currently working on publishing his second volume of poetry, and will be Ann Arbor Poetry’s featured poet in March 2019. Twitter handle: @jasonbcrawford

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