Conversation Starters
I still want to talk to you
even though cooking was easier.
Once, you were my e-z bake.
Once, I knew what to pull.
But some of our cows are demanding back payments.
I told them
size doesn’t matter
matter isn’t size.
Will we ever fight again about anything besides heirlooms?
You’re seedy, too.
An important part of lovemaking is having some kind of recipe on hand.
I like stained ones.
I like Christmas-tree sap stuck to my lifeline.
I like when you hang an ornament on me.
I won’t work at any shoppe with diminutive endings.
I have love standards.
Half an hour is still a whole situation comedy. More than.
I want you to kiss me for half an hour.
Some sentences just don’t sit well.
I want to be funnier. Please help me.
Sadly, an occasional airplane crash gets things back on track.
What track are we talking about? I am already out of breath.
I hate Sunday School. Mondays are much more convenient.
I have heard that coyotes can be quick to yip.
I have heard you mean something when you breathe.
My thunder is nominal. But my conjugations: O holy Jesus.
Who allowed snuck to sneak in like that?
Most merciful redeemer: please take my picture.
I go up to the waitress and ask “Who took the dogs out?” and she says “They were hot.”
When did temperature get to be so important?
Why is it so hot in here? is a question I eat when I see you.
I can’t sit in that corner chair without my happiness.
Friend and brother.
I don’t remember what that was.
Is there an offer being made? I am scared to ask you that question.
May I know thee more clearly.
I have beaten you.
You egged me on.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have some underwear on when riding this bull.
Maybe there are ways to consume you without having to open my mouth.
I keep trying to say things.
I keep waiting for you to understand what I cannot say.
Joseph Byrd’s work has appeared in Fatal Flaw, South Florida Poetry Journal, DIAGRAM, and forthcoming work in WAXING & WANING. He’s a 2022 Pushcart Award nominee and was in the 2021 StoryBoard Chicago cohort with Kaveh Akbar. An Associate Artist in Poetry under Joy Harjo at the Atlantic Center for the Arts, he is on the Reading Board for The Plentitudes.