Sheila-Na-Gig online

Poetry

Jennifer MacBain-Stephens

jmacbainstephens_photoJennifer MacBain-Stephens is the author of two full length poetry collections (Yellow Chair Press and Stalking Horse Press.) Her chapbook “Dixit: Every Picture Tells a Story, or The Wrong Items,” is forthcoming from White Knuckle Press in 2017 and “She Came Out From Under the Bed, (Poems Inspired by the Films of Guillermo del Toro)” is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press. Recent work is at Lime Hawk, concis, decomp, and  Inter/rupture. Visit: http://jennifermacbainstephens.wordpress.com/.

Freeloader

The barnacle chooses not to waltz, refuses to rumba.

The barnacle is socially challenged; it is a virus cell invasion.

The barnacle takes too long at the snack stand.

The barnacle makes its own snow globe out of cotton balls and a plastic deer.

The barnacle is ho-hum accompaniment, the barnacle forgets to turn the pianist’s page.

The barnacle sings a washer’s your clothes are done tune. There is no ice cream truck here
just warm cotton ready to remove December’s ache.

The barnacle is a solid paper doll. It stands idle, watches you when you think you’re alone.

The barnacle pays child support.

The barnacle leans left, politically speaking but is not an over poster.

The barnacle is not a fast food nation but it understands the needs of many.

The barnacle is an anxiety prone cousin, lost in Ohio.

The barnacle is white in the middle and black around the edges,
an eyeball space satellite zooming towards that whoopee pie in the sky

The barnacle is scientifically unnamed at this sea side conference
but the barnacle is telepathic, so it’s a work breakfast.

The barnacle is a political scientist’s nightmare:
it grows tentacles from the ships’ largest pie graph,

beckons the sharks to pose for LIFE magazine’s photographs
rage is all you need to take that first jagged plunge,

just a subtle flip in the right direction.

The barnacle takes a swig of whiskey,
opens the earth,
waits,

jaws open.

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