Candace R. Curran- Poet Talk with Ellen Miller-Mack 8/22/2025

 

Audio only from the WMUA Podcast (also available on Spotify). Candace R. Curran's newest poetry collection, The Sound of Her Good Name, published by Slate Roof Press, is available here . Captions are available with the video (auto-generated). Photo by Doug Anderson

Playing in Wrecks

A tow- truck brings in the wrecks
strung up by the neck like shiny fish,
no fight left in them,
and lays them to rest behind Hubbard’s Garage

When everything is still life,
the family leaving the thing for dead,
I approach respectfully,
enter and log a sketchy stretch of
playhouse miles

This is where I learn to
Stop  Look  Listen
Do you believe in ghosts?
Steer, Shift and Look Both Ways
for flashbacks in stains and broken glass

This is where I whisper out loud
a reverent prayer and question,
Am I a crazy child?
and understanding the laws of just-in-case and
you better believe it,
kiss the dashboard, cross my Congregational chest
and guide each soul out of the metal, after me

Break-away Collar

Your intimate animal rumble
native to my spine-bending trout-jumping kundalini
arcs bedroom temperatures
aligns chakras
wakes the yearning yawn to dock
to rock and tumble in water and stones smooth intercourse.

Oh to meet you gnarly dog
a whirligig of high-strung thighs
thumbs up
languid vowels swan-swooning
monsooning
climb a shaky ladder and trumpet that reunion.

Boy, do you see how sincerely
I collar this intimacy
do you feel a snag a bend in the rod the slow and teasy
slack and sleazy hand-over-fist reel to reach
the end of that tie-me-up-rope Love,
that long leash you say you’re on?

Landlord

He told her
he’d give her
favors
freebies
if she gave him some
sweetness
and knowing what she couldn’t afford
she let him pull her
dignity down
like a shade to the floor

My Cat Has Feathers but She Can’t Fly

In my dream I am throwing myself against windows
to wake up
trying to put a stop sign up
In my dream I am breathing someone else’s breath
theirs on my face and I’m crazy now
under the ice and time is running out
knocking against mirrored glass pushing a frozen voice out
I'm willing to die now to wake up

and finally do to the tortoise shell cat staring me
straight in the face
and the man downstairs
singing songs about me that just aren’t true