Walk Awhile in Our Metrical Feet

Poetry by James Ray, Erin Gilland Roby, and Christine Stoddard

 

"brush your teeth, say your prayers,
and practice on your pillows—
she’ll leave you later if you don’t"

don’t unpack the suitcase
she won’t be staying long—
a few dips in the beer river
and she’ll find your flaws
they always do
  
Husband
He walked through my heart
And stayed awhile.
When he left,
His footprints remained.

—Erin Gilland Roby
Erin Gilland Roby lives in Columbia and works for a tiny state agency.
She loves to read, especially social science books,
but her favorite book is Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.
and when she does
let her leave
let the neon candles
fight the emptiness in your room
play solitaire
and drink beer—
punch the keys to your keyboard
writing little angry poems
that you hope
she’ll one day read—
   feetbench

drink more beer so when you wake up in the drunk tank you’ll know she’s not your only problem eat more grilled cheese but remember to butter both sides—

cause a half-burned grilled cheese is like a half-burned heart— where there’s love but no intimacy trust but a fading attraction a smile of recognition but penetrations of mystery not from you

 

Hallux
Her feet wrote poetry
each time she pulled them through the sand,
as she seeped her toes in the Mother of Glass,
grain upon grain of invisible syllables—
invisible to all but her lover
who splayed himself out upon the salty beach
to admire her seagull strides
patting the scallops below.
—Christine Stoddard

Christine Stoddard is a writer and interdisciplinary artist from Arlington, VA. Currently she is studying Cinema and English/Creative Writing at VCU Arts, one of the top art schools in the country, in Richmond, VA.

To read more of her work, go to Paisleys and Parasols.
let her leave and drink more beer because she’ll be back— in one or a thousand years when you finally get that promotion or buy that red Porsche she’ll be back when the rejection letters stop coming in the mail and you finally publish that poem— she’ll be back when you start looking better than she does   sandals

she’ll tell you she loves you
and that
she always has
she’ll ask for kids
and then
the red Porsche
and finally
the rest of your money

you’ll wake up one day
to find them all gone—
but at least you’ll still have
beer

—James Ray

James Ray is a 20-year-old rising Junior at Radford University. His focus of study is creative writing. He has been writing poetry for about a year.

 

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Photos by Meagan Hart