why can’t I find a number

for Lisa Starflower

 

horrific turns and strophes

seriously, a fucking suitcase

 

how I feel in relation to you

going Kill Bill all over everybody

 

an empty shell

that would have gotten freezer-burnt

 

but Mary did not avenge Jesus

she couldn’t run fast enough

 

if she had a mid-life crisis

then Uma Thurman could play that part

 

eating lunch at your favorite restaurant

the kind that’s in a box

 

how long is a generation

the heavy blade

 

just looked at me like

what the fuck is wrong with you

 

what’s said and what’s done

I am wearing your favorite shirt

 

I can’t be friends with you

anaphora can do that

In the spirit of her namesake, Monica Thomas is a patron saint of ungrateful children, mothers, wives, widows, alcoholics, and adulterers. She surrenders to beauty that asks to be seen through an assortment of scenes in everyday life. Her decidedly myopic vision stems from a series of strategic losses from which her poetry invites humor in the quest for redemption. Sonic and associative, the voice in her poems begs to be read out loud; she hopes they will feel good in your mouth.  Please write to her at fortunebaby@gmail.com.