Steven D. Schroeder
Code Name Is the Only One
When I say the chicken hawk sleeps alone
Isn’t much of an introduction, it’s not
Like I can finish a round of Double Agent
Without a hangover. The names and ranks
I do not have to be tortured to give up
Of individuals whose lives I do not envy
May be disinformation for celebrity patrons
I fabulize. The game where one of us plays
The spy is too easy if there’s just one of us.
The password is passive-aggressive.
After you crack, is my cover whatever?
Why can’t you guess this picture I encrypted
In invisible ink? It’s obvious it’s loneliness.
*Title from “The Seed (2.0)” by The Roots
Nothing Has Ever Happened, and Nothing Ever Will
Coming up, find out about a common home appliance
That causes short-term memory loss, and tomorrow
An appliance that causes short-term memory loss
Chet lets us know what weather beast with whetted teeth
Will chew through both your femurs this weekend
Learn from a spokesperson whether police believe
Dozens of prison escapees live on your block
Or a country farm where they can run and run
We’ll tell who or whom we spied hiding in your closet
Tonight, but deny the idea we might have been behind
Door #2 instead of outside your bedroom window
And why do you store rat poison under the counter
For your toddler Jennifer to find? Stay tuned.
*Title from One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
What You Get for a Song
Your song sprang from hardscrabble immigrants and railway laborers
Children assembled your song for eight cents in a Hong Kong sweatshop
Your song shoveled out the stables daily before it broke into the business
The manufacturer recalled your song because its lead parts posed a choking
hazard
Your song made better shoes and wheels and dreams and everything in every
single size
Investors sold your song off at a profit when they ran a bustout scheme after the
hostile takeover
How entrepreneurial your song, how transcontinental its pace, how tall its
building
The engineers developed your song to obsolesce but not to biodegrade
Your song the benefactor funded schools on schools on schools
Only a neverending hold message supported your song
Your song lasted longer than cradle to grave
America, your song was too big to fail
Your song cost more than itself
*Title from One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Steven D. Schroeder's second book, The Royal Nonesuch, is forthcoming from Spark Wheel Press in Fall 2013. His poetry is available from New England Review, The Journal, Barrow Street, Barn Owl Review, and The Offending Adam. He edits the online poetry journal Anti-, serves as a contributing editor for River Styx, and works as a Certified Professional Résumé Writer.
Return to November 2013 Edition
When I say the chicken hawk sleeps alone
Isn’t much of an introduction, it’s not
Like I can finish a round of Double Agent
Without a hangover. The names and ranks
I do not have to be tortured to give up
Of individuals whose lives I do not envy
May be disinformation for celebrity patrons
I fabulize. The game where one of us plays
The spy is too easy if there’s just one of us.
The password is passive-aggressive.
After you crack, is my cover whatever?
Why can’t you guess this picture I encrypted
In invisible ink? It’s obvious it’s loneliness.
*Title from “The Seed (2.0)” by The Roots
Nothing Has Ever Happened, and Nothing Ever Will
Coming up, find out about a common home appliance
That causes short-term memory loss, and tomorrow
An appliance that causes short-term memory loss
Chet lets us know what weather beast with whetted teeth
Will chew through both your femurs this weekend
Learn from a spokesperson whether police believe
Dozens of prison escapees live on your block
Or a country farm where they can run and run
We’ll tell who or whom we spied hiding in your closet
Tonight, but deny the idea we might have been behind
Door #2 instead of outside your bedroom window
And why do you store rat poison under the counter
For your toddler Jennifer to find? Stay tuned.
*Title from One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
What You Get for a Song
Your song sprang from hardscrabble immigrants and railway laborers
Children assembled your song for eight cents in a Hong Kong sweatshop
Your song shoveled out the stables daily before it broke into the business
The manufacturer recalled your song because its lead parts posed a choking
hazard
Your song made better shoes and wheels and dreams and everything in every
single size
Investors sold your song off at a profit when they ran a bustout scheme after the
hostile takeover
How entrepreneurial your song, how transcontinental its pace, how tall its
building
The engineers developed your song to obsolesce but not to biodegrade
Your song the benefactor funded schools on schools on schools
Only a neverending hold message supported your song
Your song lasted longer than cradle to grave
America, your song was too big to fail
Your song cost more than itself
*Title from One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Steven D. Schroeder's second book, The Royal Nonesuch, is forthcoming from Spark Wheel Press in Fall 2013. His poetry is available from New England Review, The Journal, Barrow Street, Barn Owl Review, and The Offending Adam. He edits the online poetry journal Anti-, serves as a contributing editor for River Styx, and works as a Certified Professional Résumé Writer.
Return to November 2013 Edition