Three Pieces


Parker Tettleton





Boiling Bark



I think of you as a sentence I want to hold back a little longer before I think of you, of me, of us, of this sentence, as an imperfect damned happy & sad little group of things in the midst of whatever else there is to this world. I want to go running in this sentence, in my mind, on this internet paper, toward a home I’ve never been in & a home I’ve never dreamt of. You’re just now waking up, & it’s very, very far away, & we’ve been married for less than a year. I was alive thirty years before I met you & the rest of this sentence is perfect.





You’re Going To Buy Me This Record



I’m a shotgun without a shot—I’m the love of no one’s life before their life begins again. I’m an accident within an accident with a piece of plywood dancing above. You’re the only love I won’t lie to—I mean, fuck, my only love. My parents are somewhere dying in the background along with yours. I’d make you something to eat, but you’d rather watch my lips & laugh & laugh.





The Gentleman In The Blue Cardigan, Please



I’m married, sitting in a car, with two beers, listening to a record. I’m married to my best friend, sitting in a Honda Accord, with two PBRs, listening to I’m Bad Now by Nap Eyes. I’m talking to my mother, or I was, during a storm. The storm wasn’t so bad but goddamn it feels like it’s worse in Oxford, Mississippi. She says you may have to go to bed early. I know I know nothing about the gentleman in blue. There are people & then there are the ones you want to hold if you could hold anything for more than a breath. I know I know everything about loving the hell out of you.









Parker Tettleton is a vegan Leo living in Portland, Oregon.  He is the author of This Is A City (Ravenna Press, forthcoming), Please Quiet (Ravenna Press, 2018), Ours Mine Yours (Pitymilk Press, 2014), Greens (Thunderclap Press, 2012) and Same Opposite (Thunderclap Press, 2010).  Parker Tettleton is online at