after Shamala Gallagher

I don’t want to think of courage
and what it cannot save.
I only want to know why
the air falls apart  
when I pull.
And why the scent of metal always shows up.
It’s not living in your mouth
And then it is.
No matter what
is moving underneath you
it will get there.
The thought of breaking
It will get there.
Imagine saying that
to no one present.
Something speaks through you
the way another person might.
I saw you driving on the highway.
The smell of you
spreading up the highway
And here on my
very own arm. 


Epithalamium (Dream)


In the doctor’s office
I ate three mints
And then he told me
You are not the kind of person
Who has a body
Fit for babies
And triathlons
Here is some information
A trampled hand
On my way home
It was like everyone was
Asking me if I needed
Or directions
No, not really
Don’t notice me
For my suffering
I am not that kind of person
I know beauty can unmake
a granite monument
Can turn an animal
Into smoke

Alexis Almeida teaches creative writing at the University of Colorado, where she is at work on an MFA in poetry. Recent poems, translations, and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in TYPO, Vinyl Poetry, Heavy Feather Review, Aufgabe, Tupelo Quarterly, and elsewhere. She performs with the poets' theater group GASP, and lives in Denver.