Today I am once again happy to offer poems written by my friend Laura-Marie.
no
Will vinegar kill the fern
I’m trying to kill this winter?
Awake but still in bed.
Sitting on the ottoman.
Welcome the stranger,
welcome the stranger’s phone call.
Our beliefs about our hair.
She thinks music is noise,
and she doesn’t want to hear it.
some did wrong
Some did wrong,
a hushed crime,
secret and cruel.
A single man
spoke the unspeakable.
Others joined in—
the infiltrating agents
had their evidence.
It was over.
Dream dystopia again.
Naked people gathered
around the piano
sang, waiting for
death the inevitable.
baby dream
All of the babies are girls.
I bent down to kiss one.
She slipped her tongue into my mouth.
It turned into a thorned vine
and forced itself through my body.
Thorned vines like sleeping beauty
but inside.
Laura-Marie is a zinester and peace activist living in Las Vegas, Nevada. She likes cold brew tea, writing letters, and visiting friends.