Piss Jars

by Matthew Leger

1 June 2026

gleam like bullion coins in garage heat. Outside, a manmade pond pines motionless in the birthright of its emptiness.

We spend our days in the late music of wrenches. Shattered, bottles nap below our wire fences.

Last night, leafsick in a wire-thicket I fell asleep & dreamt I was an atom, flowering in the groundwater. I was being pumped up towards uncle’s bunker. Generators choired. Abstract cattle loomed. Dogs were gossiping ideologically from the trenches.

In faraday foil, uncle reigned, a pharaoh atop his pyramid of cans. Cut from his own cloth. The compound stunk of hoarded angels. In the lockbox, morphine hovered omnipotent.

From the bottom of my jar I saw the dead, souring blankly in chemtrail billows.

about the author

Matthew Leger is an MFA Candidate at the University of Colorado Boulder. He is the recipient of the Andrew Julius Gutow Academy of American Poets Prize. His work has appeared in such publications as the Denver Quarterly, DON’T SUBMIT! and poets.org. Currently, he is the poetry editor at Timber. When he’s not writing, he’s likely holed up in his basement, recording music.

back to all poetry