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September 26, 2019 Poetry

Three Poems

Fiona Helmsley

Three Poems photo

L’esprit de l’escalier

What I spend time thinking about:

why I said, “I beg your pardon?”

when I do not grovel

nor do I seek clemency from you for anything.

What I meant the phrase did not accurately convey:

“Say it again and Dermablend will be your friend.”



I have failed instinct.

No, I failed instinct.

Instinct says, No tasty poison.

Instinct says, An adulterous goblin with an M&M tattoo.

Instinct says, Get the fuck out of this poser parade.

It is instinct that knows what’s best for me

yet I consistently defy

because of pity,


but mostly awkwardness,

I think to myself

as I lean over the passenger seat

of the decrepit old stranger man’s mini van

in the dimly lit supermarket parking lot

plunging my arm into the crevice by the driver’s seat

feeling for where he says his keys have fallen.


Bitchface Becky

Because it can be risky

sharing private nicknames for people

who you don’t enjoy in any capacity

I kept my thoughts about Bitchface Becky to myself

 but then Beyoncé did something magical


image: Tara Wray