I Decided to Make a Movie

The bridge of my nose
became a sort of lover’s lane.

Carnac stones for teeth
and perfect eyes
that had been arranged.

I decided to make a movie
where it only rains inside.

Where napkins
leave their numbers
for mewing phone centers
to call.

The extras
all ran on batteries,
pinching each other’s lines.

Stretch limo Slinkys
down the repurposed stairs.

And that fridge magnet
from casting
stuck on every little thing.

The arguments we’ve had
are swag bags
full of solid concrete.

High cheek bones
like rooftop helipads
out of the city.

To a fortress
with barrelled bourbon
and a chair
beside the fire.

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Ryan Quinn Flanagan
Picture Nick Victor

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author who lives in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work has been published both in print and online in such places as: The New York Quarterly, Red Fez, Evergreen Review, International Times, Himalaya Diary, Huffington Post, Blue Collar Review, GloMag, and The Oklahoma Review.  He enjoys listening to the blues and cruising down the TransCanada in his big blacked out truck.

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