Saturday, July 19, 2014

The Green Woman Poems by Jason Fisk

The Visit

And then there was the night
that he used it for the first time
She was a woman with soft
smooth green skin
and three teeny tiny belly buttons
and purple suction cupped starfish areolas
that gently seized his cheek
as he lost himself 
in her indulgent green breasts
He exploded somewhere
in her softness
and was sad when he saw her glide
out of his eighth floor bedroom window
and disappeared
into a whirring
of white light
And he wasn’t sure
what had happened
but thought he smelled
her green odor on his sheets
Funk and spices

God and the Alien

The pastor’s booming voice
like God’s spilling from the pulpit
directly into Josh’s ears
For God will surely punish
all those who are immoral
or commit adultery

And it bounced around
and around in his head
and he thought of how
he didn’t even know her name

And then he thought about
the perfect hue of her green skin
and her softness
and how her strangeness excited him
and then of the comfort
and then of the peace
she left him with
How could that be so wrong? How?
How could what be so wrong, honey?
his mother asked
turning from the driver’s seat
Nothing, just thinking about a math problem.
Okay, she said and turned
back to the road

Day after day
God’s guilt tied
his burgeoning
sexuality down
like the Lilliputians
tied Gulliver to the beach
He finally asked God to take back
his ability to see beauty if he ever
touched the green woman again

Alone on Friday Night

Dim lights glowed yellow
softening the harsh high
definition edges of his life
The vodka his mom kept
for social occasions
was now sufficiently
watered down
The soundless snow fell
faultless and fluffy
to the earth’s foundation
His intoxication gobbled
up gravity and guilt
He imagined her in bed beside him
The yellow glow of his fish tank
water dancing on her green skin
If he knew how to contact her
her would

He stripped down to his boxers
and stager stumbled down
eight flights of stairs
and ran barefoot
across the black street
to the middle
of the snow filled park
His head spun
as he looked heavenward
and fell to his knees
and began bellowing
Please come visit
My mom isn’t home
and I’m listening to
French jazz on Apple TV

He yelled to the sky
over and over
and over
and over

The Unit

Oh my God, his mom said in a harsh hushed whisper
as she leaned forward in the plastic psychiatric dayroom chair
What the have you done?
He leaned back and tried to cover his bare legs
with the blue hospital gown
He avoided looking directly at her
and traced the brown print triangles
of the hospital garb
Did you bring clothes for me? he asked
No, I rushed home as soon as Mrs. Nelson called
She said you were naked and barefoot
in the park
yelling at God 
- She said the police
called an ambulance to take you away
His mom leaned forward
self-consciously looking around
The nurses said you came in drunk
You had alcohol in your system...
...Is this true?

He looked out the window
And they said you were talking about
indecent things
with a naked green woman?

She stared at him
and tried to read his silence
You were drunk weren’t you?
He shrugged and tugged at the gown
What’s happened to you? she asked
You are not who I raised

The Heavy Door

There was a continuous thudding
His thick white bedroom door
bounced in its frame
He heard his mother’s voice
Josh, is everything all right?
I thought I heard voices

He didn’t know what to do
The green woman was on top of him
and she refused to release him
until she was contented
He struggled and strained
which only strengthen her clench
Josh! Why is this door locked?
Are you drinking in there?
Is someone in there
drinking with you?

An animalistic squeal
came from
the other side
of the heavy
locked door
His mother let go
of the knob
and stepped back

Always There

Josh sat alone
at a faux wooden
foldout table
in the corner of his high school cafeteria
and doodled blue inked sketches
of the green woman’s curves
in his red history notebook
He shut his eyes and imagined
her touch and her pull
He refused to look
at other girls
at ordinary girls
who populated the halls
of his school
instead he dreamed
about the day when
they would live together

He imagined taking
a white human bra
off of the green woman’s
chest and seeing her
purple suction cup areolas
gasping for him
like fish out of water
gasping for life

And then the period
five bell rang
and Josh
had to go to class

The End

I’ll only watch a dark movie
if it has a redeeming ending
, his mom said
Josh thumbed through the available movies
He heard his mom beeping
the microwave buttons
and then heard the popping of corn
and smelled the wave of melted butter
as it seductively spread into the TV room
It was a good night
His mind was free
until he went to bed
and the green woman visited

He asked her if she would stay
and maybe someday meet his mother
He asked her for more
It all just came spilling out
And she said nothing
Like always she took
what she wanted
and when she finished
she moved toward
the window toward
the blinking lights
And this time he followed her
to the open window
If you won’t stay with me
I’ll go with you,
he said
And he followed her
jumping out of 

the eighth story window

Jason Fisk
is a husband, a father of two, and a teacher to many. He lives in a suburb of Chicago. He has a cohesive collection of short stories titled, Hank and Jules, and is also the author of Salt Creek Anthology, a collection of micro-fiction published by Chicago Center for Literature and Photography; the fierce crackle of fragile wings, a collection of poetry published by Six Gallery Press; as well as two poetry chapbooks, The Sagging: Spirits and Skin, and Decay, both published by Propaganda Press.

This Zine Will Change Your Life previously published Do Not Resuscitate by Jason Fisk. Check it out.

Street art by KASHINK.
Photo by Adam Lawrence.

Truthers is a new band from NYC and this track is taken from their debut 7" which was released earlier this month via Glad Tidings. 


1 comment:

  1. is it odd to say i can connect to these poems? ...