I peeled you off like leprosy! he grinned,
But now all you have are bones.
I laugh walking away, joints clacking, we never meet again.
I dash water from my eyes and come away with the flesh of a cheek sitting in my palm, a bright plum
of defeat.
by Jenny Rossi of Burlington
Let’s turn the oven on to 350.
Make chocolate chip cookies.
Chop off our hands instead, watch them
fumble while the jilted lovers of our mouths hit the button reject,reject, reject nude rosebuds never blooming in heat.
by Jenny Rossi of Burlington
Pretend to be an isosceles, two angles waving like sea kelp undone. Sinuous and delicate they wave and threaten, but cannot choke.
Listen to Freud’s sonorous voice - you are trickster friends.
Wait. You can hear Freud breathe in time with your father, roommate, counselor. Ear to door wait for them to stop, the wait of Electra, of the ex-wife, of the angry scream curve-balling towards you, a beaut, a true throw.
by Jenny Rossi of Newport
Memorize what she ate, make it for dinner eat alone, hands are hawks swimming in air above the plate, never touching down but always hunting. Set for sea at dark hips groaning to the shore, but lips never touching slick surface.
by Jenny Rossi of Newport
When I saw your sockets, I knew you left arms at his place. When I looked at your face to ask why, lips where gone--too ragged with use, must have fallen off between Church and Cherry. I don’t know how you got home, without legs that were still wrapped around his frat-boy waist. I swiped at your eyes. You were blind anyway.
by Jenny Rossi of Newport
I couldn’t write butterflies so I wrote nails. When held to flame they didn’t burst into yellow-black-ash wings but still took flight, hit lovers, family, old friends, sent the bleeding to my doorstep to ask, Why? Why can’t you write about one goddamn happy thing? Pointing to the ash, I nodded sagely, said, Find out yourself, cage those words until they sit in shit from neglect, tearing at each other to escape.
by Jenny Rossi of Newport
"Gain weight while losing hair!"
Old age,
the promise I never asked for.
by Steve Cormier of Burlington
No, I do not love these mountains, rather they are like the calluses on my feet, they have grown and I would miss the subtle protection.
Ask when I am moving back, and it hurts down to my soles. Everyone is lost in a city, but it takes work in a small town like this everyday.
by Jenny Rossi of Newport
Even dining alone has become dangerous once, the waitress begins to speak. The daily specials are here but you still are gone. Again I order fish, one for me and one to take home. Maybe they’ll think it’s for someone else. I would like to have children, but it would upset the cat.
by Jenny Rossi of Newport
Counting carpet fiber made my mother insane. (Read: I’m trying it after work when you are done packing and gone.) Please, don’t forget your toothbrush and banjo when you leave this time. (Read: Ring is on the counter.) I’ll be busy writing. (Read: Beginning of my 6-month creative block.)
by Jenny Rossi of Newport
You--
Mother: Teacher,
Father: Famed local Dj
Disorders: OCD, Anxiety, Germophobia, Male pattern baldness, including various suicide attempts.
Me--
Mother: Postal worker/Alcoholic,
Father: Absent
Disorders: Writing.
by Jenny Rossi of Newport
When cigarettes no longer bring you pleasure
try madness,
the obituaries,
or bad customer service.
by Jenny Rossi of Newport
