‘The Dead Time Carousel’ by Michael Russell

a soul breaking its earthly bonds
by Edward Michael Supranowicz

The Dead Time Carousel

what bottom have i collapsed? 

  my face flat against the concrete 
     cheek licked by the cold 
       tongue of refrigerator water 

i submit       no lock pick 

        to unshackle this sadness 
    no quick fix to dredge my body
  pickled     year after year 

in basement monotony 

  no magic key      no escape 
     hatch    no secret latch 
       to puff the wrinkled bags 

of my lungs with air 

         i’m here    squished 
      by gravity    cheek tongued 
    by a cold lick of refrigerator water 

i submit 

  throat gargling the long opera 
     of my blood 
        each note dragged 

like a corpse 

      in an ambulance     the sirens 
   blue     red     silent 
 my body                   bloated 

to a whisper 

  lungs begging for scissors 
    to cut 
       the endless swing between 

living     &        necromancy 

        if one moment can jump 
     into the next 
  then one moment can jump back 

into sadness 

that sags 
    & jiggles 
       & fits like an overgrown skin 

if there’s a multiverse 

         i’m sure   there’s a variant of me 
      who doesn’t mind lying 
    flat against concrete 

a variant who reaches past 

  the refrigerator’s kickplate 
      spider husks    the trails 
         of hair that pool 

like sweat in a belly button 

       stares 
    parallel to the blade of a centipede 
  eye level with the bottom 

when he digs for another 

  who dares to dream 
     elastic 
        stomach full of monarchs 

& milkweed 

        his blood       an omen 
     gutted laughter 
  the evisceration of a new day


Michael Russell (he/they) is the queer, mad mother monster behind two chapbooks, gallery of heartache (forthcoming from 845 Press) and Grindr Opera (Frog Hollow Press). They are the coauthor of chapbook Split Jawed with Elena Bentley (forthcoming from Collusion Books). He has a heart full of rainbows, unicorns and chocolate chip pancakes and they want the best for you.  Insta: @michael.russell.poet  


Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Lithuanian/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.