published june 26, 2019


by Chuck Sebian-Lander

build your plumber to flush toilets with the lid closed, to hide his shame from prying ears build your plumber to plant tulips on his neighbor’s doorstep then wait to meet her with a smile that hangs on a beat too long build your plumber to jump at coins to hoard in a safe-deposit box; not even his wife has the code build your plumber bigger than his brothers, but softer in the fleshy places, more prone to cry when struck by words build your plumber smaller than the ashtrays he leaves behind when chain-smoking through his crises of European existentialism or else, build your plumber however you want; mine’s just me with a fluffed mustache and my three-foot vertical leap bounding at the void beyond the scrolling barrier, laughing in anticipation of the flagpole
Chuck Sebian-Lander is a poet from Maryland. His work has been featured in Prometheus Dreaming, GRAVITAS, and Castabout Literature. The mammoth, ancient tree in his backyard has been struck by lightning twice, yet remains standing.