MYTHOS
tuesday nights:
fold tiny paper birds
smudged white
ignore phone numbers
i’ll never text
tie off lovers
like old stories
with a string
i’ll crown myself
jeweled with flowers
hide my face
cross out
the name of you
like a to-do list
make vows
for tomorrow,
to growl alone.
NOTHING HAUNTS YOU LIKE A VISION
it’s the older men
the ones i let open me like rain water
it’s the men i wanted to fuck
turning me into their tobacco cologne
it’s the final pause after a shuttered window
it’s the moment i thought about loving myself
but, i just walked through the night
stumbling home.
ONE NIGHT STAND
i’m a good show runner —watch
my waltz tongue — just smooth, no
speed bumps; i want yr sheets to smell
like me; i’m easy, for the right single malt;
i’m sorry, did you think this was about you?;
little fool; i like my sex like a cube of salt;
it purses your lips long after it’s over; meaty;
waiting to ripen; i’m not listening to what
you say; i know i’m pretty; you want to keep
a gallery in your house; you say this while
we fuck; installation art; things to make me
roll my eyes; & i fuck back; you sigh; i’m beautiful;
for fanning yr flames over parchment.
Stephanie Valente lives in Brooklyn, NY. She has published Hotel Ghost (Bottlecap Press, 2015) and waiting for the end of the world (Bottlecap Press, 2017) and has work included in Susan, TL;DR, and Cosmonauts Avenue. Sometimes, she feels human. http://stephanievalente.com