‘Golden Torus’, ‘The Ceramic Tiger’, & ‘I, Sequoias’

Photographer - Tobi Brun

Golden Torus

Juice in the teeth,
eyes concave and dry
Sunday, just before seven
just before the rainstorm ends
industrial cable, color of oil
mixes with the wet leafy green
threaded with the brown of vine
early evening, damp city light
on the shelf, the hole becomes the curve.

The Ceramic Tiger

this moveable statue was already here
when I move in to the place,
this lovely little apartment in New York
she faces the window, and shows her fangs
to the passing weather, seasons and passions
frozen in a rictus growl
my girlfriend had bought it at a bazaar
how bizarre, a reasonable facsimile
that I was here with it now, sharing space
hey eyes are open, set back
so it looks a little sad, a little tired
you would be too – snarling forever
the least I can do, for the soul of the thing
is opening the shades each morning
so the day can move across it, lending motion
I moved in last October, it’s my home too
I’ve found my own station, in comfort
my own poses in which I arrive
and stay awhile, in silent familiarity
the plants, more alive, have less character
candles and forks are useful but not citizens
ultimately, I remain the newcomer
seniority is earned in afternoons
and hierarchy’s color is true
orange and smudges black
white belly and tan
guarding our Brooklyn view forever.

I, Sequoias

Ancient sprouts,
structures looming in glen.
What will they think on me
when I press these temporary
limbs on them?

Matt Gulley is a poet, playwright and fiction writer. He attended Wayne State University in Detroit and currently resides in Brooklyn with his partner Jenna. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Moon City Review, The Madrigal, The Minnesota Review and Consequence Forum. Find him @selfawareroomba on Twitter or @mattgulley.bsky.social on Bluesky.