Marisa Crawford

Some songs are called “The End.”
They make everything seem so definite.

On Janet’s last day the 9th floor smelled like popcorn.
All the Merch girls had eyelashes like mermaids.

Now that Janet’s gone instead of chatting her
when I’m angry I do crazy things in Photoshop

like make a picture of the tabletop builder landing page
and write “TABLETOPOCALYPSE” across it in dripping blood.

Not that I think the apocalypse will be bloody, or that I will be there.
Not that I even know how to use Photoshop.
Not like anyone would even get the joke except for Janet, or maybe Jay.

John said if the world was ending tomorrow,
we could go live with this project if we had to.
If aliens landed on the planet, said they were gonna blow it up.

My mom says her trainer says she doesn’t eat enough,
and then she gets hungry and so she eats junk.

I made Janet a sign that said Interplanet Janet for her cubicle.
She was the only one that got it, and even she didn’t really.

I made a name for the table with the swirling blue things on it.

Not like Janet is from outer space though technically she is an alien.

My mom says the red M&Ms are poison / I used to believe her.

I hold my arms up like a radio antennae.
Whale sounds come out of the receiver.

From Big Brown Bag
Available from Gazing Grain Press

Marisa Crawford is the author of the poetry collection The Haunted House (Switchback, 2010), and the chapbooks 8th Grade Hippie Chic (Immaculate Disciples, 2013) and Big Brown Bag (Gazing Grain, 2015). Her writing has appeared in Bitch, Hyperallergic, The Hairpin, and The &NOW Awards 3: Best Innovative Writing (&NOW, 2015), and is forthcoming in the second edition of Gurlesque: the new grrly, grotesque, burlesque poetics (Saturnalia, 2016). Marisa is founding editor of the feminist website WEIRD SISTER, and lives in Brooklyn, NY.

Big Brown Bag (Gazing Grain, 2015)