The Zingara Project

Tag: Ghost City Review

  • Monkey in a Cup by Javy Awan

    I used to mail-order the little monkeys in a cup,
    advertised on two-bit comic book back covers,
    but the compact box with air holes at the top
    didn’t come—I know it was dumb, but I sent cash:
    laureled one cents, buffalo nickels, burning-torch dimes,
    and Liberty quarters scotch-taped to a card and sealed
    in a stamped envelope addressed with best penmanship.

    Years and many moves later—they must have tracked
    me down like schools their alumni—the delivery arrived:
    the miniature hermit monkey snug in his sturdy
    live-in cup of Horn & Hardart cafeteria china—
    he was a born commuter, a philosopher in a tub.

    He’d climb out and walk around wherever set down,
    and despite the ad’s fine-print disclaimer about luck,
    he had the knack of picking out winners at the track—
    dogs, thoroughbreds, and trotters—offsetting expenses.

    He’d tell fortunes as a parlor trick, with a deck
    of mishmash cards almost as tall, laying out the draw
    and discerning the gist with tiny finger to tiny lip
    and detective tics of his head. He’d mime the result
    with movements precise and unmistakable:
    going to the bank, falling in love, fighting a battle,
    earning a degree, sailing a ship, and marrying.

    Somehow, the single monkey in a cup multiplied—
    each Saturday breakfast, the row of mugs had grown,
    with furred pates and bright eyes peeking over each brim.

    I figure that back in the day a shipment of monkeys
    must have escaped and hid out in a post office store room;
    they intercepted crates of mugs, and in a few generations,
    resumed fulfilling the long-delayed orders,
    boyhood to manhood. That would explain it.

    —

    Javy Awan’s poems have appeared in Poet Lore, Solstice, Ghost City Review, Potomac Review, Innisfree Poetry Journal, and The Ekphrastic Review; two of his poems were selected for reading at locations on the Improbable Places Poetry Tour in 2019. He lives in Salem, Massachusetts.

     

  • Under the Radar by Javy Awan

    Duck your head down—no, lower—down by me—
    pardon my whisper, but we’re under the radar—
    escaping detection, maneuvering free—
    we’re at the controls where controllers can’t see,
    scouring for secrets of forbidden traffic—

    We’re clumsy but finessing, caressing the contours,
    guiding and gliding along edges and tops, joy-riding
    our own unmonitored zone—we’re under the radar!

    We alone know our whereabouts acrobatic, hush-hush—
    the tickles on your belly are the tendrils of leaves—
    stay alert to the lifts of buildings and hills, but don’t rise
    and rise and rise on the thrill—keep hugging alongside,
    the target’s in view, nary a clue—we’re under the radar!

    Above, the invisible rays would imprint our paths,
    distinguish our craft, assign tags, and keep tabs,
    tip off the hostiles to aim their ack-ack—our blips
    extinct on the screen, ablaze in the skies—Amazing!—

    We hit it—a simultaneous bloom! Veer back to home base,
    reining-in breathless highs, lest we soar into sights—
    Victorious, unharmed, we’ll rest arm in arm—under the radar!
    —

    Javy Awan’s poems have appeared in Poet Lore, Solstice, Ghost City Review, Potomac Review, Innisfree Poetry Journal, and The Ekphrastic Review; two of his poems were selected for reading at locations on the Improbable Places Poetry Tour in 2019. He lives in Salem, Massachusetts.

     

  • Living in Opryland by Javy Awan

    Living in Opryland—the twang of guitars
    lulls through the night, from nigh and afar,
    sifting caterwauls of rhymes that plait
    poignant, live plaints cataloging
    mishaps, heartbreaks, pangs, turmoils,
    and setbacks—the spangled world is adverse,
    but we plug in and plug on like traveling
    showmen, setting up tents from town
    to town in Grand Ole Opryland—a downhome
    expanse, where ailments vary—each citizen’s
    is unique, stunning, terrifying, misericordious,
    striking notes all understand and sympathize.
    We sync and chime to the moves, the dances,
    the choruses, the improvised instruments,
    the stanzas of grief and vibrance, our tribal
    tribulations—always falling in love stumblebum
    with the next gorgeous person impervious
    to our pleas or merits till the tell-all song
    reaches double platinum—the roving sights by then
    are set on a starrier mate—hair more bouffant,
    figure more robust, skirts pantingly shorter—
    who can pen a lyric and tonsil a tune, pick a banjo,
    or bow a fiddle faster than the notes can be writ.
    Living in Opryland, we’re pursuing the grand
    scheme of harmonies that guide us by heart.

    —

    Javy Awan’s poems have appeared in Poet Lore, Solstice, Ghost City Review, Potomac Review, Innisfree Poetry Journal, and The Ekphrastic Review; two of his poems were selected for reading at locations on the Improbable Places Poetry Tour in 2019. He lives in Salem, Massachusetts.