Marathon Avoidance

Inam Kang | 2017 WT Awards Poetry Winner


MARATHON AVOIDANCE begins: “all day i was crowded by it. dick on / the horizon and maybe bad dead / people watching it all go down.” How do you not drop whatever you’re doing and give that poem your full, rapt attention? How do you not thrill through phrases like, “a god in him that i could palpate,” like, “the whole dense of me”? The poem deftly runs a circuit from sex to God to laughter to death to family to history and, finally, back to laughter. The poet foregrounds pleasure through their wildly imaginative language and their breathless spirit; then, that pleasure carries us into a place of deep private and universal truth. Frost said a poem should begin in delight and end in wisdom. MARATHON AVOIDANCE is a very, very good poem. 

Kaveh Akbar, 2017 Poetry Judge

 

                                                       + + + 

all day i was crowded by it. dick on

the horizon and maybe bad dead

people watching it all go down so

i’m not surprised by all that thirst-

decadent blessing shamble shamble

shamble and fall. it must have been

necessary to see the big god snatch

it from me in that way. i had to laugh

into the river and sun sprouts of my

wrist just so i didn’t really look like

a fool. it took so little for me to build

that world. my grandfather would say

mashallah beta you let the world drive

you. and then he would laugh. that’s

why we don’t talk about the dick on

the horizon. none of it could survive

in the same room. the laughter would

be the first thing to die and then the

rest of us.

 

                                                                [interlude #1]

 

                                                                reading about dead people all

                                                                day makes you want to move

                                                                into an empty house. that’s what

                                                                we’ll call the dick on the horizon.

 

i assumed his name was awais because

i’ve fallen for this before. the name is

never as important as me on the floor.

he had الله tattooed on his forearm and

you could hardly see it on the brown.

remember though, i fall on the floor.

that’s what matters. this one must have

been a painter and that’s all it took to get

paint on a nail and that’s all it took to make

me see a god in him that i could palpate,

measure, diagnose, and fall into. but you

already know at this point, i don’t fall in

to anyone. my body just hits the floor.

 

                                                                [interlude #2]

 

                                                                all the things that fell through

                                                                that day:

                                                                                        coffee

                                                                                        my deodorant

                                                                                        better dick on a better

                                                                                        horizon

                                                                                        good reason

                                                                                        me through an ancestor

                                                                                        a few children through

                                                                                        my fingers

                                                                                        a night alone

 

it was a vivid one this time. i

thought about it until no-name

fell asleep next to me. he was a

kind one but that’s not important.

remember, it’s about the part

where the whole dense of me thuds

against the plastic crust of the G train.

i thought, maybe, i’m not the only

one branded with the same god’s

name taught from a history of dying

trees and turmeric. i thought, finally,

this is the one who knows god and

good dick well enough to explain

it to the loudest choir of ghosts. i

thought, here comes the refuge. here

comes a love to help me hold the

weight of this question instead of

standing up there, too, stomping. but

 

remember, i fell through him on

the floor. that’s what’s important.

and then laughter spilled from me.

at least that survived.

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Marathon Avoidance
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