Devin Gmyrek

The Eternal Stimulant

I have to start believing in things again;
whale songs as elegies, the whispers
of distraught gods, my ability to
circumnavigate the world. There’s got
to be a way out, a path toward the luminous
valleys where you never have to worry
how you’re going to get home, whether
you’ll remember all the turns, so far
have you strayed from the bay
of missed remembrances, the soul
tarried and married to the idea
it will never find a suitable mate,
the body just trying to keep itself
stuck together, whatever glue ensued
before even birth a dearth of required
knowledge; the problem being the isotopes
we thought would spell the whole thing out
have gone on vacation. Where went the elation
of creating something communicable
from a private event, like incantations cooked
up by the dead for those seeking
a soothing manner of passing the time?
A crime to allow oneself to remain
so naïve this late in the performance,
never really knowing whether the audience
is paying attention, unable to count
their countenances since the spotlight
blots out your eyes and leaves them
a black mass with an occasional
smile creepily waving hi back.
Maybe I’ll run off to the circus
with a lover like my great grandmother,
maybe I’ll strip naked and sip the sea,
causing me to vomit, but I think
I will never give up this feeling
that eventually the climate will improve,
and I won’t end up without a roof
over my head like my shrink says,
because I still believe in Love
and its powers, not the sour
bowery my experiences left me.

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Devin Gmyrek received an MFA degree in Creative Writing from Saint Mary’s College of California. After graduate school, he lived in Uruguay, where he translated poetry from Spanish to English and wrote a novel. He and Tim Henry co-authored a chapbook called Seven and Seven, which was published by Scantily Clad Press. His poems have appeared in Verse Daily, inknode, bombfire lit, and Clockwise Cat. He has taught at various secondary schools and now lives in Maine. Instagram: devingmyrek

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