you rearrange men under the sea with your hands – glen armstrong

I take comfort in long lines.
I am not alone.
I pretend

that I’m a prisoner,
grateful for small slips of paper.

The stars belong to bankers.
They are strictly catch and release.

I pretend I’m all sorts of things
that I should never
pretend to be.

My youngest son wants to know
about our progress
and his mother.

Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has three recent chapbooks: Set List (Bitchin Kitsch,) In Stone and The Most Awkward Silence of All (both Cruel Garters Press.) His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduit and Cloudbank.

Photo: @richardguest9440