Acie Clark
The Berlin of Mid America
For Lucas Martínez
The day feels a mile wide – and longer still – with all of the ice on the road – and the news of sewer water – in the well water – and the next stage of ethnic cleansing – gets interrupted – by a guitar riff – announcing an ad – with another recipe – for a dip – for another Super Bowl – this cottage cheese ambassador calls – The Big Game – to avoid paying any trademark fees
A year meant for no major changes – chock-full – of major changes – What are you running from – asks an old friend – who hasn’t liked me for years – they mean – well – I think they mean – aren’t you overreacting – aren’t you being – a little baby – about this – and I find myself telling us both – I was trying to – get away from my life
I don’t know how to get away anymore – so I walk a lot – and I log onto zoom – to trade impossible philosophical questions – and personal anecdotes of struggle – with perfect strangers – and in the world beyond my screen – the yard fills up – with so many terrible singers – dozens of grackles – the nonconsensual google AI calls trash birds – hurtling– from tree to tree – filling the sky – like the smoke – at a party – you spent all day – waiting for – like what else is there – to do – with the first tolerable night in March– than sit on a bucket – watching a fire – with the friends you could keep?
Beauty keeps balking at my balking at beauty – I bet each new day on the walk I’ll take – with the dog I love – that I might see a tanager – a honey locust – a box turtle – until the sun sets – and I can raise my number – I'm still counting days – on the bad ones – the people I love – ask how are you – which is The Big Game for – have you been thinking about drinking again?
Luqui calls Little Rock – the Berlin of Mid America – it’s my favorite format for a joke – 1.[this place] is the 2.[somewhere else] of 3.[wherever you are] – the reaction you’ll get – tends to depend on – who is from where – and how they feel about that – and where they live now – and the story they have told themself – about what this means – I mean – the second year of sobriety – has been the outdoor stripmall – of my adult life – full of birds – trash – unbearable kindnesses – surprisingly good food
All sincerity gets made – or unmade – by willingness – I hadn’t understood that before – you mean what you say – then you decide it’s important – to keep meaning it – for all my life lived toward poetry – the texts I send people – on the worst days of our lives could be anyone’s – thank you – I’m sorry – I’ve got you – I promise – are you going – to the big game – meaning – of course – I love you
Acie Clark is a writer from Florida and Georgia. A former writing fellow at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, he teaches in the Film, Theatre, and Creative Writing department at the University of Central Arkansas and as an Instructor at Interlochen Center for the Arts. His debut collection, Small Talk, was selected by Derrick Austin for the Hub City Press New Southern Voices Poetry Prize and will be published in 2026. He has work forthcoming in The Florida Anthology, Salamander, The Arkansas International, and Best New Poets 2025.
