I can’t believe that I missed this. My poem “Paperdolls” ran in the September issue of Clementine Unbound and I mistakenly thought it was going to be in the November issue. A big and clumsy oops to me. (Maybe I need to start actually reading my email, eh?)
Here are the first two sections, as teasers:
Pretend you’re living with me. We are both girls. Your penis is gone. I don’t know where you’ve put it—maybe it’s in your back pocket. We’re painting our toenails Cherry Slurpee Red and eating cheese crackers. Orange flecks our fingers. Your toes are small and dainty. I lean down, cover them with my breath. Are they dry yet? I curl beside you like a cat, the salt from your knees tasting of burnt sugar. You reach for your back pocket. Please, stay like this. A girl.
Imagine your sister comes back from the dead. She hasn’t aged a day. She’s five, eleven, seventeen. Her skin is beautiful—you can’t stop touching. Is she a ghost? She gets out the Monopoly game. You buy all the red and green properties. Just like Christmas, but she’s too busy trying to land on the last railroad. You cheat, maybe she does too. No one buys Boardwalk, the chances of landing on it are slight, and besides, it’s so expensive. You roll, move, it’s so soothing, so familiar. When you look up, your sister is picking her nose.
Read the rest here.
And here’s a photo of a tree in all of its autumn splendor out at Valley Forge National Park. Aren’t the colors gorgeous?