Ally Malinenko- Three Poems

Bio: Ally Malinenko is the author of the poetry books The Wanting Bone and How To Be An American (Six Gallery Press) as well as the novel This Is Sarah (Bookfish Books). A poetry collection entitled Better Luck Next Year is forthcoming from Low Ghost Books. She lives in Brooklyn and tweets a lot about Doctor Who

This is Not What Happened

You think it is

but it is not

like a dream can sometimes

feel real

even when the water closes over your head

and you know there is no way

you could still be talking

still breathing

that part of you that says,

this is not what happened.

It is June 10, 2014.

This is what happened.

That hurricane inside me was nothing

it blew apart into little bits.

Now, a year later

we are not still wondering and worrying.

We are not still talking about dying

young and painfully.

This is not what happened.

Instead we are still throwing our arms

out wide,

catching the world,

digging in our fingers

to stop it from spinning.

We have learned to love

without judgement.

This is not what happened.

Dread has not settled

like a hungry vulture

upon my shoulders

It does not eat my eyes.

It does not eat my liver.

This is not what happened.

We are not shouldering unbearable fear

We are still young

and in love.

We are still crafting with our hands a life.

We are still a part of this humanity,

we love our families

we eat our food

we drink our wine.

This is not what happened.

We are not dying.

God Bless America

  

He was

37

a navy seal

a yoga instructor to be

a father

who survived multiple deployments to Iraq

only to return

to Florida

to a local bar

where he was shot

and killed

by another white

man with a love for guns.

May Day

We take the train out to Kreuzberg in Berlin

to find dinner

and drinks

for my birthday

something quiet

because things have been so hard

and I am happy to bury my thirty seventh year in the dirt

toast it’s death with a nice glass of German white wine

but instead we find people

so many spilling out of every bar

and club and filling the subway stations

beer bottles

clutched by the neck in their sweaty hands

90’s rap blasting through the platz

chants in German that we can’t understand

police linking arms to keep

the kids back

as you take my hand pushing through the throngs

saying this isn’t right,

this is madness

and I realize in that moment

inhaling all that spring air

and chatter and spilled beer smell

and Berlin

in her naked glory

Berlin who doesn’t care if you love her

Berlin who has been bombed to hell

and the walled up

and beaten down

Berlin who still hasn’t given up

I realized

that the only thing that doesn’t belong here

right now

love

is me

and you.