HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN
Side A
Slow rolled bellies
A Po-Boy split open and picked through
Oyster knife slung on the sideboard
Oysters fried fell on the carpet
On the dresser
Greasy lettuce left soggy
Still spends the same
Paid rapist’s rapture
Masked
As lover
As smiling singer
As song
Literally said
He was the voice of God
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B Side-
Wet and slippery
Spit out a pearl or stone
Strew like steamers across the moon
Coupled in corners
A litany of moans
A mourner or two trying to grit the grief
A preacher posed in chartreuse slippers
And semi-nude stockings
Rocking back & forth
Belt tied to his neck
Nearly wrapped four times
Around the hand of Barely Legal
A boy he knew from Eagle Scouts
He’d turned out years ago
SEVENTH DAY ADVENTIST
When I was little I used to dream
About the apocalypse
Each night was the end of the world
And I was the only one left
Red winged demons scaled my bedroom walls
The Devil danced on the carpet
Juggling chocolate cake
Shards of golden light stabbed through
The cracks in my ceiling
Exposing sky still blue in the middle
Everyone I knew was floating above the air
Their bags all packed
The Bible said I wasn’t supposed to miss them
But I did
Jesus wore sparkly platform boots
Looking down on me he shook his head
He knew I’d pushed it too far
Standing barefoot in my Wonder Woman pajamas
I knew I was a sinner
I didn’t even ask for help
GRIEF
My body is made of you
Your laughter bounces through my teeth
The loneliness gnaws on my breasts
Eating what is meant to be saved
GHOSTS
They stand slobbering in the sagging light
Holding tight to the first hurts
Like a baby’s clinched fists
At the shallow edges
They gather
Gated by the tips of shadows
They use what they can
To try to get our attention
Aching to be remembered
YOU MIGHT BE A CANNIBAL BUT I AIN'T FOOD
1.
There’s a fly on the side of your head
It seems to want to stay there and lick blood from your molting antlers
As you rub up against anything that will have you
Velvety shawls spiral into brown furry Shirley Temple curls
Then fall into golden beds of Cottonwood leaves
The fly it stays
Slowly opening and closing its wings
Wanting sound
Not wanting to bate you with buzzing
Holding on
Hoping to be mistaken for a moth
A butterfly is what you deserve
It knows
It hopes to be forgiven
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2.
Tiny pieces of light hope to be forgiven their darkness
I just wanted to be a starfish
Sitting like barrette
On the side of your head
Hoping to be mistaken for something valuable
Holding on
Not wanting to bate you
Not wanting to be
A butterfly mistaken for a fly
A golden moth mistaken for sound
That part I wasn’t trying to know
They know
I’m the doe eyed
And you are a rainbow watered with slick
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3.
River water whirled rainbow jasper and agate slick
Brackish with ocean breaking over
Backed up against Sitka Spruce and Salmonberry
There was a doe who eyed me while we stood at the confluence
Both of us more afraid of a rogue wave than each other
Then there were three
All just watched me stand there and criticize myself
Eyelashes made me wish I had them
Something I had they wished for too
We waded together
Until just before predator time
Unlike me
They knew
They weren’t food
return to ISSUE ONE