A Utah native, Chris Philpot is currently an MFA candidate in poetry at the University of Maryland. His poems and translations have appeared in
Beecher’s Magazine, (un)civil, and elsewhere. He lives, laughs, and loves in Washington, D.C.
Rapture vs. Rupture
Consider the end and everything
we still have to do. Like when
was the last time you saw
a jellyfish? These days it’s
normal to feel like a landlocked
seagull. It’s normal to be thirsty
and be a beach at the same time.
A beach is just an hourglass
waiting to be turned by your
deliberate hand. I am waiting
for the right moment to turn
into a barnacle. But look
you have a body and how amazing
is that! We are two architects
in love with a sandbar and
each other. I’m asking you to believe
in something like a blueprint.
Believe me when I say there
are many ways to greet
the sky. No. 1—be a steeple.
You watch a dog chase his tail and think
you know why. You’ve become an expert
at not letting people know things. In the
fruit bowl, an apple is doing everything but
taking a bite of itself. No one is above
free samples. Someone right now is biting
a fingernail, while someone somewhere
else gets a paper cut and sucks
happily at the wound. Told
like a bad joke at a dinner party, now
no one wants to eat the roast beef.
You were there when the deer jumped
into the zoo, landing among the cheetahs.
How the cheetahs rose to embrace him with
open arms. Even the proud buck
was hungry for himself.