Hit Song

This one starts with an ocean of drums.
There's like twelve drummers at least.
The bass sounds like vicious wind
or a stray dog. We see the two lovers
alone, asleep, then dead.
It's a tragedy, these kids. The bricks
fall out and the lights cut off.
We remember these moments
as the great romances.
Empty halls and empty rooms.
We remember daggers in our chests.
The guitar winds itself
through the hallway,
jagged like ice. I'd like
a last kiss, a last meal,
something less uncertain.
I remember the steel pressed
against my head in the theater
and the cold nothing on my lips.
The bridge swells, louder
and louder, as everything
crashes down. I stand alone
in the rain, with nothing left
but the water. Now the chords
are just a broken promise.

I’m Giving You Waves Because I Am the Sea

This is like being drunk
in an art museum, you say,
all filled with red and green
and sparkling bits of light.
There isn't enough paper
mache to construct a replica
of just how I feel right now.
A portrait of how our day
is breaking. A calm little
not here. I'm finding it
harder to keep my ocean
away from your beaches.
Look at all these failed
attempts to paint smiles
on the rocks. Look.

the opera

it's kind of hard
to take you seriously
when the world is ending

when that tangled mess of rope
is pouring out from your mouth

look at how it twists
around our bodies

you're a mountain you say
& at that moment you are

I'm a crescent moon I say
but we both know
that's not entirely true

I think about that time
we spilled our drinks
& they became an ocean

I think about that time
we missed the opera

Nicholas Bon lives in Georgia, where he edits Epigraph Magazine. You can find his poems in Wu-Wei Fashion Mag, UCity Review, Right Hand Pointing, and elsewhere. Visit him online at nicholasbon.com.