by Edward Michael Supranowicz
Song
In jail there is some paperwork. The desk clerk takes my name
and information, although I already gave it to the lady police officer
along with my shoelaces. Beside me, the blonde in an orange jumpsuit
is talking about noodles. They give them to us cold in commissary
because we aren’t allowed to have hot water. Now, what do you think of that?
Cold noodles! I think I prefer them that way, soba, but I don’t say it
since I feel like such an asshole for thinking it that a buzzing starts in my ears,
but I can still hear her, see her clearly, and the long line of men who shuffle past
in green polyester. They look like turtles, don’t they. I wish I was a turtle
hunched over like them, heads bowed as though sinking down into their necks.
The last one sings a little song under his breath, it’s a song about pussy; Oh that pussy divine,
that pussy so fine… This goes on for a long time, I can hear him humming all night
in the cell next to mine, so although I can’t see him, I know he’s there, the way
that tire iron is still there, clasped in my hand after an ex showed up at the party
with a knife and a song of what he would do –– kill me then kill himself, that old classic.
And even though I know he’s sick, know I didn’t ask for this, still
I asked for something. I can’t pretend I don’t like a mad dog around
to put down. I’m going to find a way to invite that mad dog in, to give him treats
and kick him just to hear him whine and bark. If I barked all night
in my cell, I’d be back-up for this guy, the end of the line, who sings me a song
of myself in Vermillion County Jail, waiting in my 6’ by 6’ to make bail.
Laura Bandy attended the University of Southern Mississippi’s Center for Writers PhD program from 2009 to 2013, where she received the Joan Johnson Poetry Award. In 2018, she won first prize in the ‘Trio of Triolets’ contest judged by Allison Joseph, and received third place in the Illinois Emerging Writers Competition that same year. She has had work published in Soft Skull’s Saints of Hysteria: A Half-Century of Collaborative American Poetry, Ninth Letter, River Styx, The Florida Review, and The Laurel Review among others, and her chapbook, Hack, was published by Dancing Girl Press in August 2021. Her first full-length poetry collection, Monster Movie, was published by Gold Wake Press in spring 2023. She teaches at a community college near the Iowa border. Laura hails from Jacksonville, Illinois, home of the Ferris wheel. Instagram: @lorabandi Twitter: @laurabandypants
Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Russian/Ukrainian immigrants. He grew up on a small farm in Appalachia. He has a grad background in painting and printmaking. Some of his artwork has recently or will soon appear in Fish Food, Streetlight, Another Chicago Magazine, The Door Is A Jar, The Phoenix, and The Harvard Advocate. Edward is also a published poet who has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize multiple times.