Sept/Oct 2022 • Vol. XLIV No. 5 Poetry |

A Little Bit of HIstory

Like an outdated telephone I am always waiting for someone to lift me from my cradle and wrap themselves in any correspondence. I no longer have a cord, though once it was the only way I ate. Little spaceman, little stone. I am still incapable of comparing myself to a gem, but I loved amethyst as a kid, and once bought some from the rock shop in Breckenridge. They had also for sale, in a thick glass display case, the skull of a saber-tooth tiger. It yawned like a shipwreck and devoured my attention like so many cavemen and whatever foundational paintings they never got to make. You who have gone before us, today I feel less musical than these crows resting on their violins of electricity running parallel to the roads. I have never used a phone booth, though like iron maidens they still wait outside some gas stations with the emptiest of arms.

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Photo of Andrew Hemmert
Andrew Hemmert is the author of Sawgrass Sky (Texas Review Press, 2021). His poems have appeared and are forthcoming in various magazines, including The Cincinnati ReviewThe JournalMichigan Quarterly ReviewPrairie Schooner, and The Southern Review. Hemmert won the 2018 River Styx International Poetry Contest. He earned his MFA from Southern Illinois University Carbondale and currently serves as a poetry editor for Driftwood Press.

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Like an outdated telephone I am always waiting for someone to lift me from my cradle and wrap themselves in any correspondence. I no longer have a cord, though once […]

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