Two Poems by Brett Olsen

I Could Use A Win

After my folks were admitted to the hospital,
my boss’ body language reiterated
HR had resources if I needed them.
My brain converts needs into weaknesses,
so everything’s fine until those who love me
grow frustrated by the lie and begin to love me less.
I returned my neighbor’s book on Mindfulness
half-read and said Thank You.
The state lottery odds are 1 in 13,983,816,
and it’s up to 17 million. This is sufficient.
I am not greedy.
I don’t need to go to Space.
I need to buy a ranch for my parents
so they stop falling down stairs.
Whenever I am somewhere beautiful,
I concoct a speculative afterlife
meaning I am never alongside you
on this beach
but rather having a heart attack
and finally receiving a second chance
to appreciate what was once in front of me.
I multiply every bad thing
by infinite, other bad things.
Every Midwesterner is living the dream
and leaves it at that.
When a murder-suicide occurred
two blocks from my apartment,
I fixated on the hyphen
and wondered if the bullets sent them
to some shore or another cornfield.

*

Better Luck Next Time

Unmaintained bridges
separate you
from answers.
You want to be brave,
but it’d be foolish
to cross.
Is it nobler to crave
water or calories?
A different bad dream
on every island.
Get on all fours
and dig until you strike
something, anything.
What makes the hurt shut up?
Everything is rhetorical, idiot!
Books become heavier
when authors die.
Is it the casket
or the person inside
that makes gravity so combative?
Pallbearers carry on
and never share their flasks.
From Pangea to Purgatory,
you and love and loss,
dirt and truth and you
finally splashing water
against your face,
catching your breath,
exhaling and saying
okay then—what’s next?

*

Brett Olsen is a poet and humorist from Cleveland, Ohio. He earned a bachelor’s degree in English Literature from Kent State University. His writing has been featured on The Hard Times.