“Not on my lips anymore” by Elisabeth Horan

Arsenic Hour
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Image by Nydia Lilian

Your sexual preference is the strand
of spider web across my eyes
this morning,

Annoyed, I swipe
it away; it is perfect and persistent;
it laughs at my effort, yet
doesn’t let go.

My wanting you is for what –
I don’t know – as if new clothes
would make me

Somehow happier – more complete –
as if a male outfit
could dress me less like a pauper,

More like the butch empress who shuns the
requisite lesbian clothes

Our time was not for naught but smacks
of chocolate mints after dinner,
you want one so badly
especially after ordering only a salad –

In the parking lot
a well meaning couple,
(whichever one you choose)
says,

There’s a little something on
your face,

And I know it so well, brown and green –
the warmth of it: smears just like our body parts.

I still pray for us, reunited, but your taste is
not on my lips,
not on my lips,
not on my lips –
anymore.

 

 

 

Follow Elisabeth Horan on Twitter @ehoranpoet

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“Burn” and “Salt Water Haibun” by Courtney LeBlanc

Visitants

Poetry Courtney LeBlanc

BURN

I sit in front of the fire, the wood so dry
it pops, embers rain out, a small burn
marks the rug, evidence
of the offense.

When I met him the spark glowed hot.
How quickly I reacted, knowing to let it smolder
could mean a home in flames. I don’t
always do this, extinguish the fires that burn
low, snuff out the desires before they can rage,
burning everything to the ground.

By the end of winter the rug is filled with tiny
black holes, embers leaving their mark,
a reverse constellation. By the end of winter
I have let desire burn hot enough to melt
all reason.

 

 

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SALT WATER HAIBUN

On my last day there he calls, tells me we’re going on an adventure. I throw my clothes into my suitcase and head his way.

The sun is blinding,
blue skies stretch infinitely,
trees verdant and bright.

He gets in, towel in hand, directs me into traffic. He doesn’t say where we’re going and I don’t ask. Twenty minutes later we arrive. We’re going into the Mermaid Caves, he says.

Water pummeled rock,
the sea surging, careful –
one must check the tides.

He lowers himself into the water, through the hole in the ground. I can see the waves crashing, the glittering sun through the water. I follow and we wade further into this strange watery world. Eventually he boosts me out of the hole, follows behind me. I kiss his salty lips.

Relentless waves roll,
the ocean never stopping,
no mermaids appear.

 

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Courtney LeBlanc is the author of the chapbooks All in the Family (Bottlecap Press) and The Violence Within (Flutter Press) and is an MFA candidate at Queens University of Charlotte. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in Public Pool, Rising Phoenix ReviewThe Legendary, Germ MagazineQuail Bell Magazine, Brain Mill PressHaunted Waters Press, and others. She loves nail polish, wine, and tattoos. Read her blog, follow her on twitter, or find her on facebook.

Yum Yum Time by Elisabeth Horan

Arsenic Hour
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Image by Becca Stadtlander

Hello shattered baby. Lie down – and come, I want to be free with you – I want to be something new for you – to be your new pet. I’m so fun: you drinking / me drinking fun. I want our party to be the kind they love – they covet our things, our makeup, our thighs, our non-existent pantilines. We are goddess lovers / we are body-snatchers. We are what love wishes it could be – calls us up and asks for advice on her asymmetrical nasal profile and pesky mustache whiskers. Bitch. Serves her right. Took yum yum from us all that 90s time. We are the light bright ponies lip sync karaoke twins – short skirts Timbalands hot as hell white light black jack tattoos Rosie Rivet – holsters for our whips on hips – Lesbians? Hell yeah. You butch, me femme, all tongue. Both of us, both of them. Canigetayesma’am? Shattered baby, Lisbeth lovely, tongue pierce kitten purr, purr lilla whisker pet – come, to momma, one more time and stay here: safety arms get paid in sex to protect you. Fun times love times come n get me some of this yum yum time.

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Four Poems by Noelia Young

Visitants

Listen in on a private reading by Noelia Young, a slam poet based in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Her poetry discusses important themes: racism, wisdom, growth, and survival.

Time stamps for each poem:

“To My Racist Friend” 00:29

“Advice To My College Self” 03:38

“Lulla-bye” 7:01

“Me Too” 10:34