Mirror Earth
We were bored
So the rapists mowed the lawns
So we were all captains of a land
so we were
each steering the fates
of one clunky body
and it’s collisions
So symmetry is a strange game
as in where there is a magnet
things fly
to it and soon we are all in
the same bed
So there is always the drug tunnel, the tunnel
of drugs and it’s damp-drug glow
was warmer than the hallucinations
of the very, very cold. Even sand
has died of thirst long ago
And by who’s hand
can I take this exoskeleton, this ship
and the next one
and the next
and say, we are filled with the same invisible
electric snow
like meeting your own ghost
like admitting, yes
I am a conscientious human, but I still
do these six things
And I’ll bet we can name them, too
All six
Catherine Zeta-Narcissist
Men in the ambiguous flesh lake
know me, and my weakness
is hardly your business.
I am all. I am leaning
on the wicked.
Ladies in the lake come out as if
you are the only world in the world!
I said, be your own cotton cake
and nobody’s badger!
So squirm
between the saving
and the silt
and haunt them
like culture
like icing
piping
so thick and so
sweet nobody
wants it
Marie Coma-Thompson is a writer and painter currently living in Louisville, KY. She is interested in expanding consciousness through meditation, music, and creative practices. She has been a featured reader at the Speak Social reading series as well as a featured emerging writer at the InKY series. She lives with her husband and their three giant, buddha-like cats.
[stag_icon icon=”facebook-square” url=”https://www.facebook.com/mcoma” size=”50px” new_window=”no”] [stag_icon icon=”twitter-square” url=”https://twitter.com/marie_coma” size=”50px” new_window=”no”]
Cover image: Chrystal Berche