By Jillian Moreno
gladioli, camellia, freesia
a fragrant spell indeed,
hazy and windows open
now I have a lil lady orchid
dainty and patient above the kitchen sink
I used to think that not until I myself was beautiful
could I surround myself with beautiful things
now i think it’s the opposite,
and I should wind calla lilies around my core of nothing&empty
like whispers around a windpipe
or pipe cleaners around a toilet paper roll
if you use beautiful words, you don’t have to write a poem at all
but then what have you done?
the core of this poem is a toilet paper roll
and I am inside of it, shrinking
and the core of the core is a silence that doesn’t exist
no matter how my belly aches for it
If I could be a poem.
By Susannah Emerson
If I could be a poem
it wouldn’t mention you or
The 1,639 Days On A String.
I say I love you & you call foul play.
Girl could bash a brain
a good, good sane name:
You call me wrong I take a bat to your kneecap.
But I am soft and bendy.
The neurons go better, faster, wrong.
Your grammar is terrible.
You deserved not more than a week’s worth,
And I give.