by Glen Armstrong

My body is here again.
It doesn’t want to be.
I’m angry
at my clothing.

I feel unbalanced when I watch
movies about people
starting over
in new towns.

My body has been to Detroit.
It’s best to say that danger
isn’t dangerous.

I’m angry
that the sensuous yet pragmatic
shape of a cane
gets wasted
on Christmas candy.

It’s best to say that I’m not
angry.

My name should be proof
of something.

I should know what I would be
doing if my name
were a verb.

Glen Armstrong

Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has three recent chapbooks: Set List (Bitchin Kitsch,) In Stone and The Most Awkward Silence of All (both Cruel Garters Press.) His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduit and Cloudbank.

^{Artist: Guy Catling}