I liked her, but I didn’t know her. A friend of a friend. Kind of punk and butch. An open face. I was distracted easy chatter when she took my arm and brought it to her lips. A gentle sucking. Light. I said what are you doing? Trying to give me a hickey? She left a tiny kissed outline. So light that when the knife came out I trusted her. I noticed the nose on the end of it turned up like a Persian slipper. A silver bead. Just an underline she said. For the blood sisterhood. But the knife was blunt. “DO IT!” I said. I had to close my eyes. She was too gentle and sawing. UGH and when I peeked there was a deep convex cone of flesh missing from my arm.


Surely That’s Poetry

she had a feeling
where once she had been an empty balloon
she memorized
Sweet Jane
that’s poetry
but then her period ended
stained everything she touched
surely that’s poetry
her pretend first date
and dumped back 15 minutes later
the tag still attached to her new dress
half sentences
one line per page
notebook scrawl
changing lines
surely that’s poetry
all these copies
at workshop
Wednesday night
next to the bearded lady
Franceye rocking
right there
in the next seat
tapping her Birkenstock
white chin hair