Zachary Schomburg
3 poems
High John the Conquerer
I like to tell a story about
High John the Conquerer
that focuses overwhelmingly
on his rage, how it comes
down upon his kingdom
suddenly, like a storm,
and how he demands gifts—
falcons in cages, particularly,
to quell it. Upon hearing
this, you excuse yourself.
You forgot something in
your car. Then from the car
window, you yell you forgot
to turn off your stove.
You drive away in all
directions at once.
It’s remarkable how you
do it, how you split
yourself into four
fields, four colorful planes
of existence to move
forever and always in.
I have proof now,
I think, of the roundness
of a world. A world
where wherever you go
you go away.
Accident Waiting to Happen
It had been waiting there
on the corner all day
to happen in the smothered
heat of the shade.
A woman rode by on
a bicycle with her baby
covered in the basket,
when she noticed.
“What are you waiting
for?” she said. “To happen,”
said the accident, politely.
“It’s too hot for that,”
she said. “But what
about the baby?” said
the accident. “Oh no!”
said the woman, “What baby!?”
A Novel About a Secret Lake
I’m writing a novel
about a secret lake
that everyone knows about
except for one person,
a bitter older man
named David who
collects swords.
Everyone gives their word
they won’t tell David
about the secret lake.
Things go well like that
for a few years. A few
near accidental revelations
in casual conversations
but no major slip ups.
Then David dies in
a suspicious (you guessed it)
sword accident. Everyone
walks around shaking
their heads, visibly upset,
but not about David.
The lake, one of them says
at the end, it’ll never
be the same.
Zachary Schomburg is the author of a novel, Mammother (Featherproof Books), and four books of poems published by Black Ocean. He is the publisher of a poetry press, Octopus Books, and he is also a teacher and illustrator. He still lives in Portland, OR.