5 poems

excerpted from It Takes a Village to Raise the Dead 

elegy from anika’s orange couch

Anika gave me a pornstar martini / and apparently I drank it wrong / because I didn’t titrate with prosecco / but I still felt pretty good / and I’m not going to pretend I didn’t / The sun’s coming out / I want to type something so bad / but I can’t if the thought’s not worth thinking / If I want to visit my brother in Berlin / maybe Anika and John will be there / tubing down the river of blood / or whatever they said / Anika said John likes Wagner / a little too much and that I should bite the tip / off my soup dumpling / before I pour the sauce in / I couldn’t tell if she was fucking with me / and I didn’t care / I sent John the funniest picture in the world / and he said Dude twice / My brother held my arm / and for once I didn’t pull away / I’m going to sleep on an orange couch / if I can remember how / I found Nate’s green magazine / at the roots of a tree / surrounded by candles and pictures / of your face and he put you / and I next to each other and I appreciated that / I heard that that was true / in the reverse though I never felt the need to ask you / I’m scared to see Mickey / because of exactly what Marge said before you even died / When the two of us get together your absence / will only become more acute / and that’s not to even mention Joe Biden / When he tweets your name Joe / my Joe, not Biden / will tattoo it on my flesh and make so much / money from the line of blood out his door / out onto the stoop / where all your friends are chilling / waiting for what will never come / I saw two big rats today / both of them were thriving / and I didn’t even look in the mirror / I mean you would have loved it if you could see it / but you can’t / no matter what we say / to comfort ourselves / when we’re together / But still, you would have loved it / and we all know that / and that’s almost as good / and we can think it / to ourselves in the dark

elegy from anika’s orange couch 2

I called Marge and heard her voice / and cried a little, although mostly / she does my crying for me / and then my phone died, so I sat on the toilet / and peed while I read Justin Taylor’s chapter about Eli / which I put off reading because you said it was bad / but honestly it was good / and then my phone was charged so I took a sip of wine / and wrote this and now I’ll sleep / if I can remember how / The rats are my role models / The cats are my friends / The roaches on the stoop / build an aspirational civilization / I wish I could take part in / but instead I forestall my life / in pages that don’t exist yet / If you heard me say this what would you think? / I wish that I would cry / I think I can, if I wait till morning / I woke up with tears on my pillow / and no thoughts in my head / Joe and I fell asleep in a hotel / even though it didn’t have a pool / We stared at the ceiling / and talked about space / while we drifted off like a slumber party / One time I made you fall asleep / listening to a podcast about facial amnesia / I remember your face so well / that I’m incapable of comprehending / that you actually died / Anika said only fifty percent  / for me it’s more like ten / I looked through our old texts / We talked a lot about basketball and you were really funny / There’s a plate with a cherub on it / staring me down, above a crucifix / If I stare long enough / I think its eyes will open / and ask me if I’m awake yet

elegy from anika’s orange couch 3

There’s no right way to grieve / everyone keeps telling me / but I think I’m doing it wrong / It feels good to sit still / All our friends are in from everywhere including me / I wish I could have been there for you / when you walked across the state / but it was a long summer for me / I got married and moved into and out of / three houses in two months / There was black mold growing between my teeth / and no one told me / even though I smiled too much / I read at the NO OD event / and CA Conrad messaged me HOLY SHIT / after I read, and I never told you / because I didn’t want to seem like I was gloating / but come on, it was kind of cool / I printed it out and kept it on my wall / when I needed to convince myself that there was a reason / to keep working, though John gave me the best one / when he told me I captured the essence of Eli / Today he sent me a video of your reading from that night / I told Anika you called her le petit fascist / for which I probably owe you / both an apology / but she keeps just saying she’s happy / you called her petite / I wish you could see me and tell me / the truth about what you thought / about my book and if it’s finished / Theo’s gonna be a daddy tonight / and I’m all out of underwear / It’s your birthday today / and we’re all gonna be together again / and do what you wanted us to

elegy leaving new york 

Anika said she wishes the rats had their own city / after we saw a corpse in the street / and I told her they do it’s just / sometimes they leak over into ours / The dried paint on the window / looks like blood dripping / down from the sky / but when I come outside / it’s very blue / I stand next to three black bags / filled with the trash that leaks / out of people’s lives as a byproduct / of having to live them / There’s a hole in the universe / where I compensate myself for existing / by getting high in the dark / There’s a picture of Jesus and fake flowers / and a garden  gnome and a ghost / and two pumpkins in the stairwell / where Greg and Dakotah are staying / I had to ask Dakotah if the birds going berserk / were digital or real / coming from the screen / or behind the window / Their high pitched song / tussles in crazy knots / vying for the high note / We pass an open garage / full of broken parts / I’m into this graffiti / of a sad looking dude / with a big head / Anika and I carry a hundred tacos back to the squad / and talk about Gregory / The dog that had been surveying the street / from beneath the tree when we left / has fallen asleep by the time we return / Dark green leaves rustle out the window / and all the birds have gone silent / I hear sirens in the distance / and hemoglobin in the gutter / trickling over this year / and all its dead leaves / I tell Anika I talked to Dakotah about The World / she asked For or Against / I said she was For, I was Against

elegy from daddy’s beach club 

Now we’re on the water / This bar is just how I like it / quiet and empty / Perfect for Marge and me / Not so much for you / but you’re not here / I’m glad your parents believe in heaven / and I wish I did too








Jack Nachmanovitch recieved his MFA from Miami University in 2021. He is the winner of the 2020 Betty Jane Abrahams Memorial Poetry Prize. His work has appeared in Fence, Forever Magazine, TxtBooks Reader, and elsewhere.