SAD SEXY CATHOLIC
Lauren Badillo Milici
I was God’s favorite, once—enough
schoolgirl in me to make Mary
sweat. not a fall-from-grace, but something sweeter.
an unlit cigarette wedged between two
adolescent fingers; & the skin like
I was God’s favorite, once—enough
schoolgirl in me to make Mary
sweat. not a fall-from-grace, but something sweeter.
an unlit cigarette wedged between two
adolescent fingers; & the skin like
HOOD
We jut Ma’at into our daily bread.
Turn mud into pyramid bricks,
shadows mapping the heavens.
We rise above the stars.
Invent language harmonious
with all creation.
Fight wars because
YOUR POMPEII
It’s fire season and I want to be a better god; to be your pompeii
but one morning I was not myself. I will tell you a secret-
I will tell you what the arsonist told me as he struck
THE LOOKOUT
A person looks out onto the ocean. The water does not look like it is moving. Is it a real ocean? How are we to decide? There is something small and very far away. The person cannot
Skincare for Trees
Take care of your skin she says, over the dinner table,
tracing lines on the table with thin long fingernails,
Gentian Violet
For years I lied
to everyone
said gentian was related
to violet
I don’t know why
MORNING
As a child I was taught
the small gathering of matter:
in the garage of summer,
a shelf of conch shells
flat yellow saddle oysters layered in jars,
small change purses of cicada
My favorite period historically
has been the interim period
Desert Dance
I didn’t believe tumbleweeds were real until I saw one
just like ghosts or gods or anything: I’ll believe it when I see it.
Somewhere I fused leaving & searching into the same
Late June on the North Side of Town
We are in a paleteria eating lime & chamoy ice cream—
or is it sorbet? On our walk over here we talked
about ginkgo leaves & how they offer the
CHESTERTON’S FENCE
The poem is a small gate
on a country road
the rare motorist must stop
to unlatch
before going on. Even
the road is forgotten
more of a “long”-cut:
Nowhere to nowhere
the only person who texts me is my mom
mostly about how her back hurts
i send her a
proverb that says: you are as old as your spine
she replies: then i must be dead
my mom is always
An immigrant from the Russian Empire invented jeans...
"If Elizabeth Ellen exists, I would tell her it was like she channeled the anthemic scorn of Alanis Morrisette’s “You Outta Know” through Anais Nin, in her own inimitable way. And if Elizabeth Ellen doesn’t exist, at least she can invent herself.
currently ON SALE for $11!
“Legs Get Led Astray is a scorching hot glitter box full of youthful despair and dark delight.”
—Cheryl Strayed, author of WILD
currently ON SALE for $9!