Isabel Sobral Campos

TELEPHONE BOOTH AFTER PEDRO PIETRI

 

I look like a tired ear
as the ghost blips inside
the telephone booth
and the corner store
is out of milk & beer.
My shape stayed back
in the city & I ran out
of sweaters. Don’t sleep
comfortably on these beds.
It’s clear: coyotes alone may
save me. This bacchanal
of words I spew I only know
half a language so I come
off el dente. Just a minute
ago I spelled coachroach
when meaning the brittle post-
apocalyptic antennae-
possessing insect that
makes home, home.
You got your people but
I’m a moldy mushroom.
Which means my people
don’t recognize me under
this forest shade. Which
means Adidas is Adidas.
Raízes on the other hand…
Pick up the receiver
Burp twilight/ talk it over:
simulacra tribal phoneme
is virtual ritualistic
capsular within you, Pedro,
twitching parabolic
wet, drowsy Spanish
I forget words in the
middle of thoughts.
Which makes my thinking
bump into your transmission.

Isabel Sobral Campos’s poetry has appeared in Bone Bouquet, Gauss PDF, Horseless Press, and the Yalobusha Review, among others. No, Dear and Small Anchor Press published her debut chapbook—Material—a recording from which was featured at PEN America. Dancing Girl Press will publish a new chapbook in 2018. Her writing is also forthcoming in Tammy, and BAX2017: Best American Experimental Writing 2017. She is the co-founder of the Sputnik & Fizzle publishing series.