Pyre
The ghost vibrates with the fury
of someone who was flayed alive
but I like to pretend his death was
dignified like the silent drop of
a tiger lily petal no witnesses no
screams when he is awake he
never stops working relentless
and viscous like mercury and he
rises from a soft grave to chop up
hickory logs even though it takes
hours to finish the koi and horses
inked on his skin remind me to
be gentle because even in love tending
to the dead isn’t pleasure only work
Litany of Bad Habits, Millennial Edition
Still midnight snacking. Still drinking &
overcommitting & overspending & oversleeping.
Still biting the crust off tubes of superglue
instead of cutting the tip off with a knife.
Still picking fights with strangers online.
Still running with scissors. Still cursing.
Still letting my glasses slide down my nose.
Still hot-tempered. Still largely unknown.
Still figuring out my eyebrows. Still pulling
tights up to my bra though the waistband pinches.
Still calling women I hate a bunch of looking ass
bitches. Still joking about work life balance
instead of leaving for a job that might love me back.
Still picking scabs once the wounds lie flat.
Still shopping for a god & blaming stars for problems.
Still using illicit drugs. Still dreaming of the heiress
in a turquoise necklace. Still not speaking to her
& probably never will simply out of spite.
Still sleeping in my makeup. Still restless.
Still can’t tell if there’s a fruit fly infestation
or if this time around, I just died in the night.
In Hell, I Forget About Busking, Smut, and Stares
ANALOG a shaved head kisses my ass
THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING BOUT.
I’m shocked by the flood of his voice
brassy like an accordion in the night.
Under a glassy overlay, the bar boasts
saucy pin-ups and seedy dime store
titles too silly to be relics from the past.
One reads LEATHER GIRL: SHE HAD THE FACE
OF AN ANGEL, THE BODY OF THE DEVIL,
AND THE PASSION OF A LESBIAN. I snicker
and a couple turns to look at me, transfixed
though not by my face, though I might still
look good. Even in hell, people are mystified
when they see a woman with a pen and a notebook.
Rita Mookerjee is an Assistant Professor of Interdisciplinary Studies at Worcester State University. She is the author of False Offering (JackLeg Press, 2023). Her poems can be found in CALYX, New Orleans Review, The Offing, Poet Lore, and Vassar Review. She serves as an editor at Split Lip Magazine, Sundress Publications, and Honey Literary.
Image: visitphilly.com
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