Irene – Emilie Lafleur
March 24, 2023
I lie and I lie and I find my way back to you Irene Although
You don’t want me to come anymore
You said that before And then in the end I was invited to feel
Shame all the length of a carpeted hall anyway
March 24, 2023
I lie and I lie and I find my way back to you Irene Although
You don’t want me to come anymore
You said that before And then in the end I was invited to feel
Shame all the length of a carpeted hall anyway
February 7, 2023
AGENT CAMPBELL MCCLURE WALKS STEADFASTLY THROUGH BASTARD WATER IN A FLOWER FLURRY WINTER
It was a long time ago. In a travesty far far away.
What are you full of today, ANONYMOUS ANGEL? asked McClure with a soul not knowing or not.
I’m full of the swim, I said, swimming as the chin on the baby under barber lamp grins.
And I said,
January 30, 2023
After Jeff Foxworthy
If you believe (or at least proclaim unprompted as a defensively justifying rationale) that “love is not a limited resource” . . . you might be polyamorous
If you’re at least slightly ugly and are lowkey hedging your bets for someone better because you’re shallow and don’t know what you want, yet are scared of being hurt, while never actually willing to be vulnerable,
January 24, 2023
Difficult, yes, to live one’s childhood
inside a closet. Men are stray
damage, the sound
of flesh hastening to
an absence in college. One fills
a dress sleeve with a leg,
a dress wrapped in a garbage bag with
flesh and
damaged men. If it is meant,
wings carry water to
the sound of flesh hastening: pinned to
the sleeve of a rippling fabric
popped for divorce.