• {Click here for PDF version}

    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. 

    SHARE
    Previous Post: Hellhole by Tristan Foster Next Post: Hot Mess: Breaking the Skin by Rebecca Norton

    Archives