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2 poems by jessie janeshek

6/1/2017

 

 NO SNAKE OR CURE

​a deluxe bunker                       a fake suburbia                                    under flamingo
            summoned and summerdone               getting your hope in
                                    the bloodsuckers crushed between pages
                                    these poems devoid of cicadas
            the house on the lane filled with stained glass
            and red-bearded frackers.
                                                    I tried to be nice, let you know
                                                    they were starting the witch-hunt
            paisley bodysuits and soft teenage palms
            black knee-socks              I’m backing away--
 
            When the California sun          began to take my hair
                        I pulled it to platinum
            planned nights alone                days in the grey bedroom with pills.
                                                He said he’s become
                                                the corpse-flower concubine
                                                the hopeless hanger-on
            his home a long closet.
                                                We got off the bus in workboots
                                                swung around the tavern
                                                missed the parade.
Food wasn’t worth it. Neither were lilies
            but I wanted to cultivate         something to stay
I wanted a girlfriend                        to give me pink streaks
            and touch up my spooky black roots
                                                but all that I do is wait in the linear
                                                when it will dry up like my skin.
                                    I sang my best songs                latent and dazed
                                    in a lace dress                          with drug money.

 CRUEL SUMMER HAIRLOCK NOIR

September winds bring witch hunt
            the acorn scent of piss
gets me sick of systems. He kept me in the basement
            called me Ecto-Harlow                       brought me out for nighttime blonding
breedloving at the beach.        Black roots were in style
and/or neutral armpits.
 
I like it better in the blue car
            or handcuffed playing records             and sucking off the paperboy
            or menstruating on a Thursday
the toychest full of moodrings                         a blemish on my left knee
            a purple choker thick with fringe.
 
Not enough bleach sun            and untreated words still wet
            but extra ambien                      and dirty boardwalk roller skates
                        and like we used to say at limbo
                        how low can you go?
 
How low can you go                when this is too much content
            cockles            red giraffes       a patriotic thong
not an ounce of fat                  and she looks like a swimmer
            and you can’t revive comfort.
 
You fish. I cut duct tape         keep breaking in my boots
            I seal my friends and cape away
            like the bad old days.
I thought I’d find solitude       in a black and white plaid apron
                        among consenting adults         in plastic suburbia
            and dark slot machines.           The recipe wanes
                        and I sleep, don’t burn leaves. The clouds are too big.
                        Fleas love for warm bodies.     The clouds knock my teeth out.
                                                I just want to be lipstick          suede and surface
                                                and maybe the birds                use my bush for a nest
                                                            before I descend to the underground bunker.
✱✱✱
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Jessie Janeshek's second full-length book of poems, The Shaky Phase, is forthcoming from Stalking Horse Press. Her chapbooks are Spanish Donkey/Pear of Anguish (Grey Book Press), Rah-Rah Nostalgia (dancing girl press), Hardscape (Reality Beach, forthcoming), and Supernoir (Grey Book Press, forthcoming.) Invisible Mink (Iris Press) is her first full-length collection. She holds a Ph.D. from the University of Tennessee-Knoxville and an M.F.A. from Emerson College. You can read more at jessiejaneshek.net. 
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