Poems by Dustin Williamson in Shampoo Issue 25

there’s something awfully British/ about the BBC
to sort of shatter/ the tempeh sandwich
a tuned out/ piece of meat
the frequency intended/ for your bones only
a daunting task/ to fit my key in
that space within/ every utterance
a possibly crucial/ gaze
wrapped around/ your face
but it never is/ in the boy gang
(as in not willing/ to paw atop)
a possibly crucial/ shirt choice
(or atop in/ the tongued way we touch)
the picture you took/ means we’re important
look at all these famous/ unrecognizable friends
a possibly crucial/ half spin loosed in the open
turn the dial/ these days
it’s distinct feeling/ of the boot
while the belly grows/ another poem
that space within/ most bones
to sort of shatter/ the moment
syntax all over/ my face
& recognize your/ place in the foundation
with a pot pie/ lost in the oven
a pot pie/ lost in my face

travel sizes

tired at some feet above
a density, before the lights go out

of see through calledness

here darkly thinking of you
always so pressurized

so darkly thinking in dark of you
as time for drinks at the taking off

as moves airily

that’s what you do in terms of the page

fashion sense pangs of fact

heavily on the runway
heavenful

so incongruous

an extra one of those taxing
unbelievables