Untitled (“Telephony”)
by Ricky Novaes de Oliveira
My phone, with eyes like unplugged outlets thinking in whispers shining in the dark fingers, slick and silent sliding on the glass My phone, endless fire escape of planned emergency whose secret gaze is invited of roomly zenith furtive vice empyrean with retractable curtains My phone, it is the sweat of a magnet blackholes watching, looking electricity touching touching touch unreined lion’s mane, purring My phone eats fruit without spilling any juice uninterrupted pond at first ripple hungry, hungrier than me, I come alive when it's dying reaching for the spark, Lightning!—
Thank you for reading the Poem of the Week!
Above is a poem that’s been shifting around for some time now. It’s inspired by Andre Bréton’s “Free Union,” a poem that ignites my creative spirit every time I read it (I recommend this deep dive on the poem and its context if you have the time and interest).
My poem started as a homework assignment, grew into a larger narrative poem, and has since been reverting back into its own thing lately in my mind. I’ve called the poem “Telephony” before to represent the theme of fake love felt through the inorganic apparatus of a smart phone—the intimacy mediated by screen taps; Cupid with a computer science degree and notifications for arrows. Like Bréton’s poem, mine is sexy and strange; there’s love there, but behind a few layers and loops. Language that gets stuck in its own unrolling.
Try this out for yourself! Here’s a *~writing prompt~* for your own surrealist love poem.
Write 10 lines that begin with “My _____ whose” or “My _____ with” and filling in the blank with an object, person, or idea (ex: democracy). Choose 3 or more of the lines you wrote to expand by inserting new lines that further describe the image you created in a straightforward or abstract way.
Feel free to comment your creations below!
Plugged in, Ricky
My garden with a kaleidoscope of perennials
Ones that reflect the colors of my heart
As I water each one with care
The summer
My forest with falling leaves
Ones that are red and brown
I catch them like stars in my hands
The autumn
My ocean with pink coral caves
A sanctuary from the bright sun
I hide in the depths of the water with the seashells
The spring
My clouds with snowdrops in their hearts
Sprinkling everything with white sugar
As the air loses its warmth to the hands of mist
The winter.