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ISSUE 5: AEVUM

[we highly recommend reading on desktop for optimal experience]

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MICHAEL BENNETT

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TARKOVSKY

Michael Bennett | Poetry

Tarkovsky wrote of distance 

between what can be caught & 

what falls through 

our fingers. 

The infinite cannot be made into matter.

Did he feel moments 

like ghosts, 

sinking rainwater 

in loamy back-yards? 

Each moment in the green, 

like a nesting doll, pregnant 

with itself in new frequencies. If 

infinity does not find itself here, then where?

I want to hold those nesting dolls 

again, 

five years old: when I tore their heads 

from their waists, their sisters entombed. They were

Madeleine's dolls. 

​

Have words become nesting dolls? 

​

The carpet stains in that old house 

are made of 

crystal, 

hemmed in a pocket of no time. 

​

Fear 

always found me before: fear of Madeleine

unbound to me, fear that our child-heart union

would splinter 

as the dolls splintered. Fear she’d sink 

like 

a ghost. 

​

Still, some nights, 

I read her: 

words as pure and 

sustaining as the wooden things we called home

and feel that all of this is unending.

The infinite cannot be made into matter,

But 

it is possible to create an illusion.

BEHAVIORAL HEALTH

Michael Bennett | Poetry

His fingers scatter                over residential jigsaw pieces

smelling antiseptic orange & gray 

​

bone-legs crossed                              When his hands find one

                small & chipped              they scramble for its home 

​

It’s a reclamation of power 

                I know                  to make broken things whole 

​

Cars crumple into fire on the T.V. set 

cabled above                                              he turns his eyes 

​

scab brown                                   to the colored glass casing

            sucking in      the purple image-bath 

​

Best part                                                 a pucker-eyed woman

whispers                      She drops onto plastic couch-wrap 

​

puzzle half-formed         lights switch off          too awake

to go to that fucking room                            smile

                                                                                      dripping 

​

between his teeth         as the movie snaps        to black

                and leaves us in                                      eely silence 

​

crackling log-fires                he sets 

                                                in the ribs of a muddy riverbank

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Michael Bennett is a queer writer and filmmaker based in Manhattan and Arlington, TX. His work has appeared in October Hill Magazine and eleven40seven Journal of the Arts.

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