Brian Builta

Brian Builta lives in Arlington, Texas, and works at Texas Wesleyan University in Fort Worth. His work has been published in North of Oxford, Hole in the Head Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, New Ohio Review, TriQuarterly and 2River View among others. He is the author of A Thursday in June (2024), a collection of poems about his son’s suicide, and more of his poetry can be found at brianbuilta.com.

A Many-Faceted Fuzziness

These days, to the point of collapse,
I’m easily dazzled by sequins.
Not sure why, either, except aging.
My boisterous and timid organ of love
has sputtered for the umpteenth time
and I’m baffled. Who told me I am naked?
No doubt it involved a honey crisp.
I’m still waiting for my first veronica,
proof that Jesus sneezes, God bless him,
just one rage in a sea of immaculate kickbacks
far from my reality, although I do know
what it’s like to lose a son, only without the resurrection
because that would be awkward, not unlike
the father who drove his family off a cliff
and everyone survived. These days
I’m only tranquil when a dart’s involved,
only cool when ice cream’s in play,
a meltdown no one notices because
it’s so smooth. Youth usually doesn’t kill you
but it can be fairly scary
which is where counseling comes in.
Wish I had the magic to make it better,
but this is just a poem, after which
you will return to your life and me to mine,
our separation something we’ll have in common.