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Stipulations

the future lovers
embrace odd shapes
to approach the imminent-
unnaturally crawling or rolling
to fit through or under.
in fear we fake ourselves-
borrowed gestures
learning new words
crafting habits and painting
the whole tie dye scene
with dirty fingers
using oil to prevent morphing
or quick escape.
we pray to a fresh new deity-
pray this is convincing enough
to the veiled bride that
our lips kiss
behind a tinted window
the way a child presses
his to a mirror
when no one is looking-
we are shedding old lines and loves
like tissue paper skin-
the lights are off and the sheets
are tangled and someone’s cell phone
is buzzing but it will stop
if you imagine it’s the radio.
there are warnings in another language
we are numbers and riddles
geometric shapes and clues-
we come
with a certain set of rules
we remember
each new opponent is used to
something just a little different which is
interesting to vocalize but
these are slick transactions-
this is taking stock.
a discovery we make
when we lift it out of the box
to find pieces missing.



No Immediate Danger

there was something to say for
the colors your eyes turned when
you looked to the north and
heard a deafening sound which
could be mistaken for
an explosion happening on the other side of town or
a reason to own a gun since
the crash happened on the street where
your relatives lived when they were children known to
break records on the driveway
go for walks without direction never imagining
the ground beneath their feet destined to catch flame-
now wake me from the drink hazed jokes at
the dirtiest bar in town with the
saddest jukebox i ever spent five dollars on
so i can think
back there they’re skipping rocks and swinging tires
scaring horses and sneaking cigarettes like
they will be some kind of legacy for us all to think back on and
smile as if those times were ours before
the city and the debt and all the various conspiracy theories
swallowed us whole so now i am thinking yes
wear those bullets with pride since
now that we will never know what happened
you will need them more than ever

 

Courtney Marie is a writer and artist currently residing in Denton, Texas. Her poetry, stories and photography have appeared in Disembodied Text, Austere Magazine and Literary Orphans. 

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