Two Poems
Alexandria Peary

Junk Shop

I live in a Contemporary-style house

which means no Epanaphora, Antistrophe,

Reasoning by Question and Answer,

Hypophora, Catachresis or Paronomasia,

all geometry and glass. A skylight opens.

In the junk shop, behind the display case

Unity, Mass, Coherence (Barrett Wendell)

a mannequin, maiden, mermaid overlapping

and a bald eagle that winks, in its talons

the next sentence as a banner above

a stack of spears and jar of pocket change

or people who answer to “Tribunal.”


I will be supplying contemporary detail

rather than timeless points along a line

like birds and water, love and trees.

I wish Felicia Hemans (Mrs.) or William Cullen Bryant

… had done the same. For instance,

who are the people working in the next room?

Could the writer please catalog contents of roll-top desk?

What did the butter knife seem like that day (use a simile)

beside the small faces of strawberries?

What was the red splash on the neighbor’s face

when she heard her son wasn’t coming home?


To clutter the staircase of air,

a coffee mug silkscreened with Elon Musk

Mont Blanc, Bic, and Papermate pens

a print-out from 10/30/2009

of Moore’s “The Fish” taped to the wall

the screen on my I-Pod is asleep

Kiss My Face Honey Calendula

a scarf that came with a $9 sari at Goodwill

around my neck, Café Bustelo on my tongue, and

I am normally a mouth breather.

I have been sitting on this front stoop

all day / watching myself go by &

“The sea grows old in it.”

One daughter is making animals from duct tape:

a ripping sound. Eagle, horse, lion

two-by-two step up to the display case

where the talon’s writhing sentence has been placed &

melted lumps of crow-blue and black jade.


Alexandria Peary is the author of four books, including Control Bird Alt Delete. Her writing has recently appeared or is forthcoming in New England Review, LIT, North American Review, Volt, Boston Review, Map Literary, and Guernica. She maintains a mindful writing blog at

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