ANSWERS TO Y OR N QUESTIONS
The part where I say yes is the part
where I lie. You’d think by now
I’d have learned to lie better.
The trees twist their serpentine trunks
to emulate my anguish. I distrust
orange. It’s too happy. Morning glories
I understand: no one sings hallelujah
quite like them. If you were to ask
what this poem was about, I’d say
despair. I know how to be raunchy,
I don’t shy away from mischief.
Despair, though, comes easily,
like an old parakeet that has lost
its mate. Perched on my outstretched
middle finger, it picks mournfully
at a handful of imaginary seeds,
most of them wannabe joy. It so
happens that in the late 90s I had felt
joy, briefly. It came with a ring attached.
In the years after, the idea of me
was infinitely more tempting than any
body I could have inhabited. I don’t
say this to be mean. It’s no one’s
fault that joy is a tease. Also, I tend
to overshare. Listen. As far as I’m
concerned, I am through with joy.
May it rest in pieces in someone else’s
dead grip. May it forget its own
name and wear a pseudonym.
Grief, I will call it. Sadness. My kin.
Romana Iorga is the author of Temporary Skin, a poetry collection recently accepted for publication by Glass Lyre Press. A multilingual writer whose work has been inspired by different countries, cultures, and landscapes, she has an MFA from the University of Minnesota. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in various journals, including New England Review, Lake Effect, The Nation, as well as on her poetry blog at clayandbranches.com.
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