Gabriella Brand

…

Abandoned Mine is a poetry journal based on the West Coast. Their aim is to make poetry available to everyone, not just poetry aficionados.

Two of my poems appear in their latest edition: The Yearbook of the Mind and Arrhythmia. They were later reproduced in Abandoned Mine’s publication: Poems For People Who Don’t Read Poetry.

The Yearbook of the Mind

Be Honest
The best kissing happened in high school and lasted the
length of a corridor, skipping math class or glee club to slide
onto the back seat of a Chevy Malibu, or, with difficulty
into the bucket seats of a borrowed Corvette.
I’m talking about
the kisses that sloshed over onto the dashboard, covered the
windshield
with condensation so thick you could drink
it like raspberry selzer,
The kisses that rooted around your mouth like a pig looking for
truffles.
The kisses that tasted of Oreos or Marlboros or grilled cheese
sandwiches from the school cafeteria.
The kisses that vacuum-packed your belly,
that sucked the air out of your lungs
The kisses you
stashed between the pages of that yearbook we all
carry around in our heads.
Those kisses.

Arrhythmia

In the back yard, the new neighbors have built a bocce
court where Nancy once placed a small statue of the Buddha.
We used to sit, Nancy and I, in that wild greenery
with the fat-bellied wise man between us
and drink chalky chai having a heart to heart,
while the children swooshed scooters down the driveway.
In the backyard, the new neighbors serve IPA beer and nachos,
the young woman giggles and the young man guffaws
loud enough that I can hear them over the fence.
In the backyard, the new neighbors have strung a hundred
lights from tree to tree, a miniature Las Begas, where Nancy
once placed a wobbly candle in a lantern and the two families
shared take-out food and Parcheesi.
In the backyard, the new neighbors are not Nancy,
and my children have grown and no one plays Parcheesi.
But at night the cicadas are still the cicadas
and the moon still rises over the firehouse
and I suppose I’ll get used to it, this new arrhythmia of
a heavy ball banging against a wooden rim,
the unfamiliar shadows, the new voices,
the filaments of connection, both thick and thin.

You can read them here: https://www.abandonedmine.org/sixth-issue-may-2023