Womb
Fist
for
Sinead O’Connor
if you haven’t heard
the hushed vanishing
of a wrecked
protest
angel,
then
tread softly
to this arrow.
Valley your ears
in prostration,
listen
to her
Danny Boy in acapella,
a shadow train
that
harmonizes
your
blood vessels,
body into a tuning fork
your heart an estuary,
an Eire meadow
set on fire
set free
All’s Fair in Love and Poetry
A Sestina for Taylor Swift
A troubadour with a typewriter soul, patient poet,
gams a-glitter, charred cat-eyed tinderbox burns
douchebags’ love letters into falcon folklore.
She seizes every comet’s train of treason, fearless
to rhyme, freeclimb sexism’s summit, reclaim era,
willow quill, ink slipped, writing her manuscript.
Arranges singed edged montages of manuscripts,
Joan tells it slant, never recant, kitten kismet poet,
blow your shimmer kisses in our dreamscape era.
Pandora’s Box no boy will open, and it burns
to say, not even him, phoenix muses keen in fearless
catharsis, kissing ash clouds into lip lined folklore.
Pollocked keys and diaries, jersey shore folklore
turned into wet troubadour’s maroon manuscript.
Stolen memoirs, her version, her vision, fearless
to break out of cages, go in grace, roasted poet.
Beneath betrayal, you find matches to burn,
dirty guillotines slam necks, restricted humanity era
bedazzled bow and sword, Shakti of Arc era
guard up, except in notebooks of Freya folklore
called “American whore” in cat-led chariot, a burn,
nowhere as clever as the Tain Celtic manuscript.
Sorcerers have red lips and everyone knows poets
are dangerous, word spells cast on men, fearless
rhyme against treason, this Chairman is fearless
slays twang, pop, rock, synth, cottage core eras
exes in exile send island postcards for poets
“wish you were here,” pocketful of karma folklore
tortures ricochet into the muses’ manuscript.
Love bombs have no returns, regret’s haze burns.
Melancholy maze of lip scars and midnight burns,
knows the foul scent of a smoking gun, so fearless.
In Rhyme We Trust, just write the manuscripts.
Her jams lift the tops of our heads, Dickinson era.
Showgirls know how to set a scene, In Folklore
We Trust, here kitty, kitty, key is in the treat, poet
Mouths become weapons in our forging era,
a fearless definition of truth and folklore.
Manuscripts are true stories, Sincerely, the Poet.
Hill
Woman
A
Pantoum for PJ Harvey
Dark room revenge
reverie uses winter’s
fingertips to reach the
keys, so help me Jesus.
Puff sleeves doused in gasoline; these
cunning threads escape loosely sewn seams.
She mirrors a dangerous
daughter, young
dish, white chalk in
water.
Sheela
na gig is ravenous, Magdalene’s big
dick energy guts the fish.
Puff sleeves doused in
gasoline; these cunning
threads escape loosely
sewn seams.
Seaweed wraps our cute cunts, spitting out
Persephone’s pomegranate seeds.
Sheela na gig is
ravenous, Magdalene’s big
dick energy guts the
fish.
Hemless sculpture silhouette, eye shadow
puppets cavort in harpie catsuits.
Seaweed wraps our cute
cunts, spitting out
Persephone’s pomegranate
seeds.
She mirrors a dangerous daughter,
young
dish, white chalk in water.
Hemless sculpture
silhouette, eye shadow
puppets cavort in harpie
catsuits.
Dark room revenge reverie uses winter’s
fingertips to reach the keys, so help me Jesus.
Tuesday
for
Billie Holiday
One Wednesday afternoon
after high school let out,
a thin-haired boy
introduced me
to samosas, mango
lassis, and Billie Holiday
all in the same hour.
Her moonlit music scooped me, spooned me
her velvet voice licking my white kitten ears.
The monotone boy may
have hoped
for some exchange, but
now only mango
on my tongue, and Billie’s world, existed.
I wouldn’t understand Strange Fruit
until years later, when magnolia trees
and southern breezes
changed for me.
Her smoking, joking,
poking,
on government lists, wouldn’t put up
with nobody’s shit and when she
opened
her mouth - anyone could see the
universe
if they wanted to, hear its sound in an arcane
infinite
river of crinkling record static.
How
to Become a Bad-Ass Witch
for
Stevie Nicks
1.
build
a nest of dried moss and crystal wands
2.
gather
lyrics and sage in fingerless gloves
3.
hover
near huts of synchronous moonlight
4.
stir
words into gold dusted wonders
5.
whisper
secrets in a wrought iron cauldron
6.
consecrate
everything with a tambourine
7.
spin
counterclockwise until you dervish
8.
stretch
your shawl wide like hawk’s wings
9.
ignite
change, make it holy by rooting deep
10.
dig
down in the toothy forest to firmament
11.
guide
us weary travelers with a witch ship
12.
navigate
misogyny sea, decks waterlogged
13.
shield
us from darkness of ego and power
14.
discern,
as a true sorcerer, power in balance
15.
draw
salt circles of protection
16.
climb
mountains in black lace pointy boots
17.
seek
solace in witchy little cabin of mischief
18.
machete
sadness swamps, weeping wetlands
19.
shapeshift
into red-winged blackbirds
20.
“find
your coven,” lay out the tarot cards
21.
illuminate
innate truths of Empress and Star
22.
hold
in wombs our molecular motherhood
23.
cast
spells with breast and bone,
24.
burn
beeswax candles, regency fan the flame
25.
learn
to fight, moon in Scorpio or Sagittarius
26.
get
mad, make a snack, grab a torch
27.
refuse
to stand down, aside, or back
28.
answer
questions in riddles, or more questions
29.
landslide
into sword’s reflection
30.
refuse
to be silenced, bounded, or restrained
31.
refuse
to use the lens liars look through
32.
avoid
trials where they press you with stones
33.
trust
your instincts when they try to hang you
34.
compost
the broken system into crumble dirt
35.
plant
placentas, grow sweet candied gardens
36.
take
fay flight above fur, wings, rocks, brooms
37.
peer
into valleys, look out over mountains
38.
draw
wombs on our foreheads in ash
39.
feel
a little bit Misty from time to time
40.
bend
fortune’s final hour into a surprise party
41.
save
your mind from chutes and shadows
42.
remind
us once again all reasons not to
43.
fill
our pockets with keys and rocks, not Woolf
44.
walk
into rage’s river, sanity under locks
45.
forgive
every version of yourself,
especially
that one
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