ephemera 31 | Chris Lisieski
hunter is deadly
quiet when he comes
home after seven
twelves on the rig
eyes in the defilade
between brow and cheek
nothing’s bad
enough to hold sway
like what he saw
in the desert a girl
holding half of her
twin like a red rag
doll like half
of her heart missing
so when he drinks
he does it with purpose
and his doodles
on the napkin
spiral looser
as the fallen soldiers
mount next to him
until becca brings them
to the recycling
quietly
More about the author:
Chris Lisieski is an attorney and poet. He graduated from Antioch College with a degree in philosophy and creative writing, and the University of Virginia with a J.D. His work has been published by In Parentheses, The Courtship of Winds, and The Journal of Undiscovered Poets. He has one good dog, one other dog, and a multitude of rotating hobbies.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking recently about how essential dualities are for human experience: that pain is part and parcel to love; that happiness must contain sadness within it; that anger and peace are different ingredients in the same soup. At a basic level, you can’t know, understand, or appreciate any single emotion without its counterpart. If you feel joy, at some point, you’ll feel the absence of joy. So, when I hear “the good life,” I think of the weird amalgam that flavors it, and how that includes “the bad life” within it. Some bitterness, some sweet, some salt, all key to a rich broth and, in the end, inevitable to our very human lives.
Read our full Q&A with Chris here.