Poetry by Joanna Valente
EVERYONE HATES EVERYONE
I didn’t pick up
when you called me that night
because I thought you were drunk
I didn’t pick up
when you called me that night
because I thought you were drunk
and butt-dialed me at a funeral
for someone you don’t even
know and my body was in
another state watching
a man undress and there was nothing
uglier than when he
unzipped his pants than
a crocodile and what is the one
thing so beautiful you can’t
bear to look away but you can’t
possess and you’ll drive
home after hours of hands
shaking your hand and condolences
for someone who would probably
hate you and there is that mirror.
THERE IS NO ESCAPE
When your name is Lucifer
especially at a coffee shop when
the barista asks your name and you
think about lying but then you don’t
because you are a bad liar
and sometimes you can’t control
your body and you aren’t sure
whether or not you want to be
everyone or want everyone to be
with you or want everyone to just stop
existing so you can stop
existing. Everything in your house
is vegan and organic, everything
in your house is black, everything
in your house is void
of light. You are the only living
thing in your house, but then you
are also not alive. You are something
much worse. You wish you could
kill yourself. In an effort to feel
less empty, you joined Tinder
because you don’t
remember what real touch
feels like. These humans
don’t even know. Sometimes
you want to teach them, but
then when you see the glazed
over look in their eyes, you
don’t even bother to lie.
Justice Is Balanced When She Weighs Our Souls
1.
We wait for the stars to quell
None of us have seen God
She will keep[ us ] waiting for three days
This is why we were born:
to end in the shape of an O
No one realizes how cold it will be
2.
Earth hails spiders / blotched memories
—swells & animals wait for carnage
She gives [ us ] her bones to wear
On the third day we forget ourselves
No longer sure which you is in us
Strength Feels Her Body Burst in Flame
He tells her to shut
her mouth while they
fuck
Outside thunder
is resting / Rain sticks
to glass like velcro
He pushes her head
down—her neck
a question mark
Throat hesitates /
She wants to marry
in a ragged hem
like clouds / She knows
she must gulp / wipes
her mouth in glass
Someone invented
a word for this kind
of sour
#Unreal #Poetry #JoannaValente #Darkness #Emotion #Void #Raw
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