SM Stubbs
​

Asylum Ghosts

I’ve never known how to manage a flock,
             how to gather strays to my side. Everyone

wanders from any field where I’m in charge.
              I beg, plead, cajole and tantalize but only my

phantoms stick around. I study the underworld
             while I’m dreaming because I need to know

what to expect before I’m damned with my
              sins pinned like mittens to my sleeves. After

I ghost this earth I’ll reappear with my skin in
              strips and a hive of wasps for a mouth. It’ll be

nice to move without gravity’s unwanted
              attention, no more needles haunting my joints.

I tell you the world isn’t ready to meet me
              unburdened by myself but when I said me
​
I meant the world. Your god is not my god
              is not the pale spirit of our daily crucifixion.
Asylum Episode
​
The scene opens when I’m in third grade and allow
              a grown man to touch my body. This

sets the tone for the rest of me. It’s where I begin
              before the fall into another world,

before my elaborate complications set in. I forget
              who I am for many years and some

argue I lost the plot but the truth is, I spent time
               in the middle deciphering meaning

amidst the chaos. The way “chromatic” can refer
               to light or to music is important

to know before the second act ends – even if I think
               they’re the same. I’ll overcome

the obstacles before anyone has to tabulate their
               losses and/or after we celebrate

under a disco ball. Bewilderment followed by a sip
               of happiness, for the lucky ones.

In the time between monsters sniff at our necks
               attempting to pinpoint the spots

where we might be our most vulnerable. They open
               their jaws. They swallow us whole.
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A former bar owner, SM Stubbs has been nominated for the Pushcart and Best New Poets; recipient of a scholarship and staff member at Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference; winner of the 2019 Rose Warner Poetry Prize from The Freshwater Review; finalist for the Gunpowder Press Barry Spacks Prize 2022. His work has appeared in numerous magazines, including New Ohio Review, Poetry Northwest, Puerto del Sol, Raleigh Review, Post Road, Crab Creek Review, December, and The Rumpus.