Two poems by MATTHEW ZAPRUDER
Hello Quiet Protected Night
everyone likes
the new cat
especially you
but aren't you tired
of all his leaping
what about
the old one we got
before you were born
when we lived
in Cincinnati
mild city that two
centuries ago
when such things
didn't seem silly
called itself
the name of the ancient
peaceful Roman
general who stayed
on his farm
we said it
so many times
it became familiar
now it is strange
how it sounds
so strange
I keep forgetting
you can't remember
you had been
in our arms
just a few months
and we drove you
strapped into
a plastic seat
the whole way
from there
to Denver
sleeping and also
him every few
seconds meowing
in a little box
here where home
has a little echo
in it like saying
o in the garage
oh do please
pet him even
though he's boring
he's so old
he's older than you
he forgot
how to meow
and doesn't even
care he can't
climb anything
as you know
it's hard to be young
but also at the same
time older
everything is always
in boring ways
changing and nobody
wants exactly
what you want
they just agree
whenever you want
something there is
always something
you forgot
to think about
but at night
when you suddenly
know your eyes
are open
you are not afraid
like when the white
serious goat
at the petting zoo
stared his thin black
sidewise rectangles
right at you
without blinking
and you laughed
you are glad
the secret of being
awake belongs
only to you
listen I will tell
you something
funny and also sad
when I was young
I was so old
I was careful
even in my dreams
-originally published in Explosion-Proof
35 The Paris-American
everyone likes
the new cat
especially you
but aren't you tired
of all his leaping
what about
the old one we got
before you were born
when we lived
in Cincinnati
mild city that two
centuries ago
when such things
didn't seem silly
called itself
the name of the ancient
peaceful Roman
general who stayed
on his farm
we said it
so many times
it became familiar
now it is strange
how it sounds
so strange
I keep forgetting
you can't remember
you had been
in our arms
just a few months
and we drove you
strapped into
a plastic seat
the whole way
from there
to Denver
sleeping and also
him every few
seconds meowing
in a little box
here where home
has a little echo
in it like saying
o in the garage
oh do please
pet him even
though he's boring
he's so old
he's older than you
he forgot
how to meow
and doesn't even
care he can't
climb anything
as you know
it's hard to be young
but also at the same
time older
everything is always
in boring ways
changing and nobody
wants exactly
what you want
they just agree
whenever you want
something there is
always something
you forgot
to think about
but at night
when you suddenly
know your eyes
are open
you are not afraid
like when the white
serious goat
at the petting zoo
stared his thin black
sidewise rectangles
right at you
without blinking
and you laughed
you are glad
the secret of being
awake belongs
only to you
listen I will tell
you something
funny and also sad
when I was young
I was so old
I was careful
even in my dreams
-originally published in Explosion-Proof
35 The Paris-American
Your Eyes are the Color of a Light Bulb Floating in the Potomac River
Just when it is time to say goodbye
I think I am finally understanding the light bulb
but not milk or NAFTA or for that matter paper money
let's not even get into my stovetop coffee maker
I don't even get how this book is fastened or why that orchid
seems happier or at least its petals a little whiter
when it is placed right up against the window
or how certain invisible particles
leave the wall and enter the cord and somehow make the radio
make the air become
Moonlight Sonata or Neighborhood #3
basically a lamp is a mechanism
to shove too many electrons into a coil
or filament a light bulb i.e. a vacuum surrounds
the first filament was made in 1802 out of platinum
as soon as it was made to glow the air
took the electrons away
which left it charred like a tiny bonfire
just like ones we have all seen when we squint and hold the glass bulb
that no longer glows when we flip the switch
I wonder if my fear this morning sitting in the dark and listening to music
is anything like the inventor of the telephone growing deaf
and knowing all those poles and wires were starting to cover the land
and someday everyone would be able to get exactly what they want
36 The Paris-American
Just when it is time to say goodbye
I think I am finally understanding the light bulb
but not milk or NAFTA or for that matter paper money
let's not even get into my stovetop coffee maker
I don't even get how this book is fastened or why that orchid
seems happier or at least its petals a little whiter
when it is placed right up against the window
or how certain invisible particles
leave the wall and enter the cord and somehow make the radio
make the air become
Moonlight Sonata or Neighborhood #3
basically a lamp is a mechanism
to shove too many electrons into a coil
or filament a light bulb i.e. a vacuum surrounds
the first filament was made in 1802 out of platinum
as soon as it was made to glow the air
took the electrons away
which left it charred like a tiny bonfire
just like ones we have all seen when we squint and hold the glass bulb
that no longer glows when we flip the switch
I wonder if my fear this morning sitting in the dark and listening to music
is anything like the inventor of the telephone growing deaf
and knowing all those poles and wires were starting to cover the land
and someday everyone would be able to get exactly what they want
36 The Paris-American
Matthew Zapruder is the author of three collections of poetry, most recently Come On All You Ghosts, a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Currently a Guggenheim Fellow, he is an editor for Wave Books, and teaches at UCR-Palm Desert's Low Residency MFA in Creative Writing. He lives in San Francisco.