Marcy Rae Henry

Prozac Makes Its Debut

On Sunday we agree it will be 1987 all day
even when we change the subject. A key
to a door that once opened to a garden.
The longing to pull the fire alarm. Driving home
a terrible parable. The record player moves
in a circle not a line. Lines on our faces
are mistakes. Classical continuity when a jump
cut would do. Bands are like racehorses. Some
like big fat houses. It is not recall. Not regret.
It is small zesty shavings. Dancing on toes
when the soles will do. When holding hands
meant something. Beautiful and insubstantial
as a crowning merengue. Everything behind us
is in front of us. Putting puzzles together
has always been popular.
Never has there been a decade
more like sunrise. We were all unknown.
Heart on the radio. We practiced drums
to acid rain. Built Thursday as if failing a test.
All day we believe aliens might save us.
We wait for 87 to kick in, for something
to restore our interest in daily living.

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Marcy Rae Henry es una Latina de Los Borderlands y parte de la comunidad LGBTQ. She studied stuff in Spain, India, Burma and Nepal, hitchhiked around France, Spain and Portugal and motorbiked through the Middle East. Her writing has received a Chicago Community Arts Assistance Grant, an Illinois Arts Council Fellowship, a Pushcart Prize nomination and first prize in Ember Chasm’s 2021 Novel Excerpt Contest. Her writing and visual art appear in The Columbia Review, carte blanche, Epiphany, The Southern Review, Cauldron Anthology and The Brooklyn Review, among others. DoubleCross Press will publish her chapbook, We Are Primary Colors, this year.