Addison Hoggard

Wiffle-ball

You just have to hit the ball
brother says to
hit the ball and then it’s alright.
Everything in plastic
when I swing I spin, I sink
one thousand stories
down into my soul
and brother says Run
to first!
I move, the world
spirals in nameless directions
but towards first still
I dive into sand-spurs
and prickly grass,
You made it!
I made it
and feel the missing
skin on my knees,
new blood on my knees,
on my knees now I
stand, pop the ball is over
the backyard fence: Run the bases!
Brother runs behind me
chasing me but not really.
Second then third and home
is in view and brother
is behind me and the sky
is one thousand stories away.
They got the ball.
Get to home is one thousand stories
away from me and moving.

Coy

Water ripples in the back-patio pond—
Koi mouths Do you have food? by
the lily pads. It moves in a circle of black
like calligraphy, like slow cold blood
in the water.
It drinks the air
like Kool-Aid after school,
like Bud every night,
its eyes open
like seeing Christ or porn
for the first time. Body
ecstatic and flowing satin skin
spelled out under the lily pads.
I am more beautiful than you
like the stranger in the kitchen
or the cat in the window
or the needle in the bathroom.
I am more beautiful than you silently
like church on Sunday morning
and showers after Saturday night
and guilt on all the other days.
Do you have food?
Suddenly below the surface.

Author Portrait

Addison Hoggard is a graduate of the University of North Carolina at Asheville, holding degrees in Creative Writing/English and French. He is interested in exploring spaces of linguistic liminality and intersectionality. While the landscapes and traditions of his native north-eastern North Carolina populate much of his writing, his international experiences and multilingualism also seep into his prose and poetry.