Stone Soup Servings is a regular series for Oddball Magazine that features upcoming performers at Stone Soup Poetry, the long-running spoken word venue in the Boston area that has partnered with Oddball Magazine. Stone Soup Poetry now meets from 7-9 p.m. every Monday at the Out of The Blue Art Gallery’s new location at 541 Massachusetts Avenue in Central Square Cambridge, Massachusetts. The open mike sign-up at 6:30 p.m.

On September 21, we have the long-awaited return of Ryk McIntyre. This alone should make you very excited for next week. If you aren’t already looking forward to this, you are welcome to read the poem below and be in attendance early this Monday.


The Last Time I Saw Your Skin

Oceanography is the study of outer-space, writ wet,
small and close to home. Climatology explains wind
weaving, how clouds know where next to go. All this
rich detail and there are still a thousand mysteries…

just how unknowable are you, oh my island, Earth??

The last time I saw your skin, I was sunk deep inside
of leaving, suited-up in short goodbye, heart locked
on stars too far away to let go of. I was caught, dead-
locked between discovery and dirt. That’s how I saw

you: everything had to mean something, even the sky
could be stripped clean of secrets. I don’t remember
when this started changing, when stars became less
than necessary, and more of a distance between us.

World, I see you clearly now, see things I had hidden
from myself. This last time I left you, I rode thunder
between my legs, fire under my feet, every sense,
each instrument, focused on the velocity of getting away.

My mistake? Thinking I’d find freedom in space. When
I arrived, I couldn’t breathe without help. I traded gravity
for a weightlessness I couldn’t use. Un-tethered, my heart
threatened to roam. The last time I saw your skin, I knew

too much about outer-space; nothing about my home