Brainchild
I inhaled
a sheet
of bubble wrap
my stomach popped
like text messages
I aimed my nose
over cut-glass
bottles
and captured
plastic dioxide fizz
called it
sugar free soda
Narconon
When you escape a scientology treatment center
and start smoking bath salts every day
you don’t blame L. Ron Hubbard
you become him
Cult-master of atoms
my chemistry melted
into nothingness
Brothers
1998
We roast marshmallows
on pencil crayon skewers
over floor registers
2011
We roast our brains
on chalky synthetics
over burnt tinfoil
2018
We roast coffee beans
on a cloudless Tuesday
(are we) over what happened
Spenser Smith is a poet, photographer, and journalist studying Creative Writing and Journalism toward a BA at Vancouver Island University. He is a poetry editor for Portal, a contributor to The Navigator and Clip Through, and his work has appeared in text Litmag and SKY Magazine.