Here, Chug This


and her mouth haunted the beer
pomegranate lip gloss
tasting like toxin, sinking in my belly
souring the night we'd spend

elbow to elbow with the derelict chic
Faces gifted with pallor by the bar's
red light bulbs and in the alley,
where it's acceptable to smoke,

a skateboarder's got a
slurring girl pinned to the chain link,
going on and on about his skills and
I keep looking to see if she's got a friend

who'll step up and rescue her
God knows I'm no hero tonight,
sourpuss face and waxy flavor
stuck like a curse on my lips



Nurses


Our grandfathers laid in beds
spoiling like bruised fruit
Nurses checked their vitals, enduring
tough guy defense mechanisms

These thick-skinned Philly girls,
who grew up in Mayfair
or Roxborough, were born to policemen,
firemen, and postal workers

Good grades, products of Catholic schools,
Borrowers of hefty student loans,
Priming themselves to take care of a dying generation,
thought it were part of someone’s plan

Intimidating, fierce women
with trajectories unstoppable
Girls that hold their liquor and sing
along with Journey on the jukebox


Chris Middleman is originally from Downingtown, Pennsylvania. Now living in Seattle, his work has appeared or is forthcoming in several publications including The New York Quarterly, Zygote in My Coffee, and Underground Voices.