2 poems by Devin Thomas

KEDAGOU

Sweat runs in opaque streams down my chest,
Swarming in damp pools beneath my breasts.
The AC’s broken.
But it doesn’t even matter; the electricity’s
Been cut for days now.
We’re all at the whim of the weather and
The ice is out.
So I’m drinking warm beer in the shade of the mango tree,
& it’s too hot to feel your arm around me.

"Who needs air conditioning?" (photo by Flickr user Chris Bartow)

SUBLUNARY LOVER

At night the lights ripple on West Lake.
I can see a corner from my roof,
dazzling beneath an orange haze:
radiating waves of energy.
The whole city’s buzzing.
The noise never stops. It’s you
who adapts to it, the static.
What once stood out the most
becomes the first forgotten.
Isn’t that how it goes?
You were so beautiful when I first saw you
glistening beneath the street lights,
a muted moon overhead.
“Sublunary lovers.” But I see what Donne meant
about the dullness of love;
It fades too. The passion wastes us with its heat.
So I think tonight I’ll stay in, watch TV
& lavish in the comfort of my AC.

–

A recent UC Berkeley graduate fallen victim to wanderlust, Devin Marco Thomas has spent the past few years living in Dakar, Oakland, Hanoi and Santa Barbara. Looking for meaning in the dustiest crevices, her poetry finds inspiration in the mundane trepidations of everyday life. Her work, focused on the disillusion with the exotic, has previously been published in Riverlit and Red Fez. When not preoccupied with the mediocrities of making money, Devin enjoys such finery as long walks on the beach, reading Victorian novels and cracking jokes. For more intrepid wallowing, follow her blog at inanevice.tumblr.com.