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Melissa Tuckey

The Last Time We Took a Family Vacation
The other night when my drunk aunt
flashed her tits at the whole family
we were horrified and when her daughter
yelled you're stupid mom it broke our hearts
but tonight at the bar across from our condo
we find ourselves clapping along
The bar is full of sober people on vacation
lonely in their new clothes
and no one can take their eyes off Aunt Celeste
in her beach shorts and bowling shirt
rocking back and forth clapping her hands
yelling oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah
Oh Piano
After John Cage
I've lassoed the enormous
weight of you
shipped you across
the continent
carried you up three flights of stairs
but still I do not know
what you eat
Whose Woods These Are
The noise of the bee was delight. Before Burning Forest Lane.
Before Wild Ginger Court. The meadow before the complex.
Humming its wheels or mowing its Sunday. What passes for
religion. Before trillium and despair.
Narcissists preening the hedgerow
An exhibition of windows
His house is in the village though
Melissa Tuckey's poems have been published in Beltway Poetry Journal,
Poet Lore, Southeast Review, and others. She's a recipient of an Ohio Arts Council Award
and Blue Mountian Center residency. She lives and works in Washington, D.C.
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