Leveler Poetry Journal
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gasping hey ma ma

 

gasping hey ma ma hey ma ma hey give me just one
more   minute   rollover before the last crumb drops gasping hey
ma ma hey eye after eye stride the moonlight, the macabre,
hitting that hard   i want the way you say the word all over
my body   is it wrong? i find your morning routine erotic
from the other side of the bathroom door   you wash your feet,
you yell flip the eggs, your tongue is in my ear, you walk
out as soon as the toast is buttered

 

to crush the ego and still exist   i know there are so many
ways, but things that own me say otherwise — my selves, gasping
hey ma ma hey ma ma hey   gasping     now things that own
me must be named and chewed   and spat around
before the withins can be
called

 

spooning cereal slowly but missing my mouth every time
i turn the page i feel you, far away, but no farther at any given
moment than the diameter of the earth saying i would,
baby, i would, baby,   i would if i could

 

as long as you let me write you a pillow though it won’t be
right isn’t real and would you? prefer something real? you think
swans are white because you saw one in your dream, but truth
in a dream appears as anything else, it will creep up your leg gasping
hey ma ma hey ma ma hey gasping as you spend the night
batting at the sheets   sometimes sleep is a drawer, a dresser closing
on its own — and i’m catching my fingers

 

learning strange needs — how touching you served me how
serving you served me gasping hey ma ma hey ma ma hey gasping now
my contractions keep me up at night   i need
a team of interpreters, but all i have are eleven
baby spiders living in my bathroom   i leave
the light off to give them peace
but they give me none   they crawl into my hair brush
my hair brush   gasping

 

hey ma ma hey ma ma hey gasping now a paddle and i’m waiting
for you in the middle of the bed   what is the whistle
to come   i’m on my knees for two
hours gasping   hey ma ma hey ma ma   hey   i haven’t

moved my palms   i won’t break
the spell but you’re not here casting   the light’s blinking
the light goes out   my knees out   we’re going out, we’re at the movies
and you’re saying yes   to butter on the popcorn as i gasp




Brianna Nelson

levelheaded: gasping hey ma ma

 

This hey ma ma or that hey ma ma? Hard to say if the poem refers to one or the other, or neither. We’re going with Guetta, but what matters more is how the phrase always succeeds the word “gasping.” The speaker is gasping a total of twelve times, eight of which follow the signature “hey ma ma.” Something is causing the speaker to try and catch their breath, and this puts our reading experience at a matching stress.

 

There’s a confessional aspect to the poem paired with a need for approval: “i want the way you say the word all over / my body    is it wrong?” The speaker evaluates physical interaction, perhaps deciding what’s right in their own mind: “learning strange needs — how touching you served me how / serving you served me gasping hey ma ma.”

 

The poem is focused on non-conventional movement, as manifested by various motion-related verbs: “rollover before the last crumb,” “creep up your leg,” “crawl into my hair brush.” These snapshots come in and out of frame, similarly to how body parts, or animals, or situations, appear quickly but leave a lasting impression: “your tongue is in my ear, “ “spooning cereal slowly but missing my mouth,” “i’m catching my fingers,” “you think swans are white because you saw one in your dream,” “baby spiders living in my bathroom, “i’m on my knees for two / hours gasping   hey ma ma.” Great line break.

 

We’re not meant to piece together a unified experience. The atmosphere is one moment grave, as in “the moonlight, the macabre, / hitting that hard,” and the next moment emotional and grand (maybe romantic too), as in “i feel you, far away, but no farther at any given / moment than the diameter of the earth saying i would, / baby, i would, baby, i would if i could.”

 

Out of this multifaceted content, we’re learning strange needs as readers. We become what the speaker says they need – “a team of interpreters” – exploring the complexity of options the poem offers. It’s an intimate reading experience. We’re left with “butter on the popcorn” and a final gasp, but we remember no less the enchantment between the speaker and the addressee a couple of lines earlier, stating “i won’t break / the spell but you’re not here casting.”

 

All gasped,

 

– The Editors