Mo(u)rnings

Most are heavy.

I wake up in my mother’s blood clot

& forget how to swim.

Or I fry a caramelized calm.

Call it a saturated thing,

blot the heart out.

Some days I let the pot soak.

Or I watch the grease coagulate

then scrub till the skin chips.

One morning our sink clogged,

the kitchen flooded.

Two men snaked out a clump

of microscopic events.  Like

missed phone calls & visits cut

short. One morning my voicemail

flooded. A voice said stroke

but I couldn’t remember how.


Matt Coonan is a poet, emcee & teacher from Long Island, New York. He holds an MFA in creative writing and literature from Stony Brook University and is a three-time SUNY Oneonta Grand Slam Champion. He is also the recipient of a 2017 Live Más Scholarship. His poems have appeared in The Southampton ReviewButton Poetry35mm MagazineInklette, and more.