Two Poems by H. L. Nelson

Mutinous Me

I’m going to explode one day,
I just know it.
Not an angry exploding
with limbs flailing
at the nearestperson,
due to something they said
or did.
I’m no Hulk
with super smashing skills.
You should not be afraid.
My explosion will begin
with a quiet surging
of skin.
Emotions suppressed
will jostle up
and jettison their way
out of my body
on tiny cell ships,
destined for less destitute,
more perfect planets.
My fingernails and cuticles
will fly off,
like boosters and external tanks,
not needed
for the trip.
My fingertips will
become small space pods
that rocket my mutinying
feelings far away.



One Week Late

I pee on the stick,
a zygotal divining rod,
and wait.
I wonder how many women
have done the same
and hoped for a different outcome,
translating the configurations
of pink lines into something positive
for their lives.
Hopes and dreams
not once considered
that hot night,
hips raised,
a larger stick between their thighs.