Tuesday poem #418 : luna ray hall : rubber stamp

 

 

My mother asks
if I’m feeling well today

as she sips
on her Diet Coke

& wets a rubber stamp
with ink. I tell her yes,

though I know that
when the words slip out,

the muscles in my mouth
will bristle, sharp &

she’ll see the eye twitch,
the pain rupture across

the skin of my face
& she’ll say that’s good

honey her eyes
not leaving the cut-out

design, thick in blue ink,
I’m glad to hear you

are doing better. Before
pressing flat the rubber

on the card stock
in front of her & taking

another swig
of her soda, 

dark liquid varnishing
her decaying teeth.

 

 

luna ray hall holds an MFA from Pacific University. They are the author of loudest when startled (YesYes Books, 2020). Their poems have appeared in The Florida Review, Moon City Review, Atlanta Review & Raleigh Review, among others. They live in St. Paul, MN.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan