Matt Mauch is the author of four poetry collections, including the just-released We’re the Flownover. We Come From Flyoverland., Bird~Brain, and If You’re Lucky Is a Theory of Mine. Founder of the Great Twin Cities Poetry Read and the journal Poetry City, his poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Conduit, The Journal, DIAGRAM, Willow Springs, The Los Angeles Review, Forklift, Ohio, Sonora Review, Water~Stone Review, and on the Poetry Daily and Verse Daily websites. His work has been recognized by the Minnesota State Arts Board and the National Poetry Series. Mauch lives in Minneapolis and teaches in the AFA in Creative Writing program at Normandale Community College.
On the home front, March 2020Those who have wondered and worried very little about cows will be the first ones trampled in the bovine riot. This is not misinformation. Stroking my air cow, a kind of reparation, I try to replicate the downward pressure of the eleven-year-old girlwho was petting her cat family members say minutes before she shot herself. Both of us stroke with the grain. Because I may one day be the one called in to help the police to talk you off a ledge, talking you into the arms of a past I make better than it was, as with a channel changer, with some cafe lights and foods we could never afford, I’ll be petting air things all day. Because my Rotarian impulse (paternal) is trying to out-do-good my Kiwanian one (maternal), I must pet with both hands. Vicewise, I have taken up smoking so that hand and mouth, during breaks from the petting, can enter a kind of belle époque, seeing for the duration of the burn with the blur of invincibility, as we saw the wide world when the brain had yet to ripen, without embarrassment crossing the bridge of the cigarette, silly in love.