Little Joys
by travis tate
One intense & wet summer, Rachel & I drink wine out of coffee mugs
in a park near her duplex, where she has a sectional & paper with ample,
mysterious writing on it. We eat crispy tofu from the small grocer, gluttonous.
The rest of the world is asleep at four a.m. God, even, resting their little head.
I masturbate four times in one day.
I watch the sun crease the sky with different colors.
One day, the sky answers with a sapphire, an emerald.
I wake up to my mother talking loudly.
The ice in the wind hits me on the walk home from Ridgewood to Bushwick.
Ben says something funny. We talk shit for a few hours
before closing the doors to our bedrooms, our kingdoms.
It suddenly rains in Austin, on a July afternoon.
We drink at the outdoor bar later that evening,
waiting for our toes to turn numb.
Laughing too hard at your joke in my bed.
The weekend eats a rough week like weeds
eating the crispy lawns in East Austin.
The sweaty, flushed face after the gym.
Mother flattens her voice, makes it smoother before saying something like
it’ll be okay it’ll work itself out you’re smart no you’re good i’m praying for you
Monday at 5:30pm. Grateful. Tired. Resting.
Sometimes I watch videos of ant hills & imagine
what great beauty structure welds onto this life.
A dog licks my hand.
A dog in the park.
A dog, headfirst, the clear water.
A love I used to love but no longer do.
Each ripe peach, on the counter waiting to be sliced,
baked into a pie to share with friends on a Friday evening.
Walking close, putting plates down on the wooden table.
Waiting for the next friend to walk through the door.
Thinking of the word deep.
Each moment opens like a flower.
God has abandoned you
& you smile.
Touch your own face when sleeping.
Then dream of him touching anything.
I eat a plate of pasta for breakfast.
I warm my hands under the water for longer than I should.
I let the jaw fall.
I let the moon eat my tiny face.
I love you like the grapefruit in the fridge.
I mount the pity,
press down with my foot.
I’m especially bold with a few glasses of red wine.
I’m so much, darling.
Maybe you don’t care?
I’m marching in my dreams
towards the line of your chest.
O, my herald, singing close.
O, what a dream is a dream that is gone.
But a new one sprouts in its place.
O, you plaster on these little joys,
when you can.
travis tate is a queer, black playwright, poet and performer from Austin, Texas. Their poetry has appeared in Borderlands:Texas Poetry Review, Underblong, Mr. Ma’am, apt, and Cosmonaut Avenue among other journals. Their debut poetry collection, MAIDEN, was published on Vegetarian Alcoholic Press in June 2020. The world premiere of Queen of The Night happened at Dorset Theatre Festival this August and will have another production at Victory Gardens Theatre in January. They earned an MFA from the Michener Center for Writers. You can find more about them at travisltate.com.