Three Poems by Jenna Murray

Dreaming of Gladiators

What really scared me? Not their eyes

moving through the war. Or their skin latexed

in metal. Not how they fought over who was

my father. Kept swinging rocks into throats.

Not how the birds that morning

woke us so senselessly, almost gargling across the sunlight.

After we loved and I told you the dream and you cried.

Not that I was so married to my grief

that I was creating problems with your desire.

But how they kept holding me

down to the ground. Remember how dark we felt?

Lying naked—fragile—momentary—

when you said I’m sorry you dreamt that and I said ditto.

It's not madness. Not grief that has built

the woman in me. Not the dying father. Not religion.

Not climbing out of my pain

like bees hollowing a comb. Not the tomb air I heaved into

when I finally reconciled the fathers silence.

But the boyfriends, the home videos of sex in the snow,

the clean oak music box I kept opening and closing.

I want to be desired in a way that takes me home.

Now tell me, what do you see

when you look under me? This touching.

Some sort of rapture. This seasick pulse.

Overdoses

My mother is most beautiful

when she is saying goodbye.

Is it wrong?

Five years ago

she rocked herself

above the hospital bed, ruminating,

muttering

I’d thought I lost another one,

her speech

so tied to my breathing,

her breathing

God of my speech—

I was dying

but I was desirable,

I was dying on her birthday.

Her face blurred

like a ladybug under a glass.

I chose the easy way out,

and without any mercy. My mother

drove in the snow to save me,

dinner canceled,

the whole family

sleeping in arm chairs around me

wrapped in sherpa.

I wanted to be desired enough

no one could forget me.

I wanted to be desired

so much that I woke in the middle of that day

surrounded by their limp bodies—

dozing in and out of sleep,

tongues hanging out past

their teeth

—and still could not feel loved.


Jenna Murray is a poet and educator based in New York City. Her poetry has appeared in Four Way Review, Poets.org, Zócalo Public Square, and other publications. She is the winner of the Catalina Páez & Seumas MacManus Award from The Academy of American Poets, the Collie Hoffman Prize, and the Thomas Hunter Fellowship from Hunter College, where she received her MFA.

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When We’re Ready We’ll Start Over by Opening a Bakeshop, by Chris Cottom