Poems by Thomas Fink and Maya Mason

By Thomas Fink:

 

UNDISCERNED CAUSES

Spurious chestnuts. Chuck ‘em! Rich   

condolence rides on detail. I will not fish    
for the immediate      

or long-range cause. The Net yaps not of either.
No privilege to  
hover, crassly 

curious,
over the bereaved (noble germaphobe), as I       
know barely a scrap about her late
brother. Long ingrained  

friends, she and I convene to   
cover bond trends and a
few homeroom and club recollections, far
removed from his evolutions, which surely      
deserved. . . . This street is    

dense;  
why
do none of those teen hedonists  
mask? No   
nerve
here to

snare a justification, nor to 
sneer, “Look before      
you leak, before  
you lack.”
Why shave much?
I may  
mask publicly evermore .

 

PROFOUND CLICKBAIT

Saint Anybody

phumfers to bless a
corner of the cosmos. Gets slugged.

Dealers
slather Prozac on preteens at earliest signs of
fluster. To

defer reckoning?
“All I wanted to do
while growing
up was to grow

up.” To each his onus.
Count on chronic
cheerleaders to
tend to the
sunken mirth. Adulthood’s
stiff mantle 

descends upon grad drones set up to
drum up profound clickbait. (The
professors seem
even more civilized.) Many thousands

later, one needed
answer springs, as
from a billboard’s furry lips:

“If a lack doesn’t
pester you, ads can’t make you lust to

fill it.”

 

By Thomas Fink and Maya D. Mason:

CORDIALLY INVITED

3

Thanks to the ongoing
investigation, all
funeral attendees
will be detained for

questioning; our buddy
would not want us to mourn,
as he despised gun control.
This knife of mine will never
be especially lethal

without you to sharpen it.
The village executioner
was a privilege, so
let’s confect an exuberant

sendoff. Imagine the
beautiful dictatorship
we can build together!
Our slumlord was not a
light source in this vicinity,

so please don’t prepare
any kind words to share.

6

When you tripped me, I knew. 
It was only matter. And
time. How will we get by—
without our adorably

illiterate librarian?
I have hexed your other
suitors, so chug my cool-
aid. We rue the hour when
a puddle snuffed out our

eminent township
moron. How can I
trick you into wedlock?