There Will Have Been Phosphorescence by Ethan Stebbins

Hi my name
is Amenhotep
and I’m an alcoholic.
I’m 38.
I’m an American citizen.
I was named
for an obscure brand
of Canadian beer.
I was born with no teeth.
When they arrived
I had a cavity.
I had no words
to deliver the pain
private disappointment
afforded me.
I cast my vote.
I was drunk for 4 terms
of 2 presidents.
The most deviant thing
I will do today
is not floss.
I have a mom and dad.
I want to talk to them!
My concerns
are pure and selfish.
Love as an act
of radical forgiveness.
Forgiveness as an art
and practical
behavior therapy.
My dad is a skull
with a mouthful of trophies.
It asks if
I’ve been flossing.
My mom is raining.
She’s coming down
in buckets!
Above all things
she confirms the heart
is a complicated piece
of plumbing.
I have this desire
to use phosphorescence
in a sentence
in the future perfect
and never do,
like the shadow
of a red bird
passing across my brain.
At least part
of what my brain is doing
is remembering
I have 0 beers.
I have a dog.
I haven’t drank
for 1 day.  It’s natural
in these situations
I walk the dog.
I walk the dog.
Nothing smells sad!
Together we sniff
the information.
We give the creek its due.
The ice in the creek
is never the same.
I’ve never spoken correctly
about the ice,
I feel this strongly.
I feel feelings again!
I’m 38.  I want
for the 4th time
to be set aglow
by the force
of a major love event
my defenses can’t diminish.
Look at me.
I have a mortgage.
I have a motor vehicle.
I’ve amassed
a garage of handsome
powerful tools.
Drills that drill and drills
that drill and hammer.
Saws that spin.
Saws that oscillate
and reciprocate.
None of them
will help me now.

Ethan Stebbins‘ work has been published in Poetry, FOLDER, The Hudson Review, Diode, Bellevue Literary Review, Best New Poets 2008, and elsewhere.  He holds an M.A. in English and American Literature from New York University, where he received a fellowship from the New York Times Foundation for poetry.