Levi J. Mericle is a poet/spoken-word artist, lyricist and fiction writer from Tucumcari, N.M. Currently he is associated with the New Mexico State Poetry Society and gives readings from his work. His work has appeared in multiple anthologies and his work can also be seen in multiple lit magazines and journals such as, Black Heart Magazine, Mused, 101 Words, Flash Fiction Magazine, Eunoia Review, Awakenings Review, Penhead Press, Dead Snakes and more. Levi spends his days daydreaming about poetry and making a difference in people’s lives with his words.
I want to be the photograph
you keep in your underwear drawer.
And when you pull me out,
if you pull me out,
I want you to remember the dead lilacs that surround my headstone.
I want you to recall the raspberry scent on your toast
I brought you almost every morning.
The sidewalk stare I gave you,
every time you caught me in a lie.
But I want you foremost to remember the rose pedals that lined the hallway to our bed.
And I want you to fantasize wanting me again.
Because that’s all I want to remember.
Everything else just hurts to bad.
I didn’t acquire righteousness from a bible
or a preacher
or from the shallow glare into heaven.
My righteousness came from a bottle or two
poured holy over ice and tonic.
And my sins,
my sins that needed forgiveness were of a woman.
A woman who sinned over no man,
yet carried hell like a handgun to all the men in her wake.
I needed no help to fall in love, to fall into possession
but I needed an exorcism from Jose, or Jack, or captain Morgan to get me out.
Who knew I would have gotten so close to righteousness.
All it took was a piece of hell severed to me on a shiny plate.
And a bottle or two severed over some ice and tonic.
Redemption is near!
What Supplies the Heart
I would tape us to a bottle of scotch
and watch us get drunk on the label
I would rubber band our arms in time
but never once look at the clockworks of our emotions
I would clip our hearts to paper
and then fold us to an origami state of confusion
just to watch us uncrumple
I would cut us out to an imperfect size,
and then glue the love back in our eyes
I would do all this
Just to find what makes love tick.