“Infernal Fire”

By Andrea Lambert

When the only life you know

Is broken.

Picture perfect

Manicured hedges

On the outside.

Nude madwoman

Whittled to bone hooks

Running rampant

Inside.

Driven to spew bile

On the page.

Driven by

An internal, infernal

Fire.

Slathered with coconut oil.

Performing Latin rituals

With my own bodily fluids

To ancient pagan Gods.

To little or no effect.

I silently scream

Outward

Online

To an indifferent world.

Take my meds

Three times a day,

Keeps the men

In white coats away.

Stay inside

Sober,

Celibate,

Like a good woman should.

So I have heard.

The scarlet letter is A.

From coke whore

To literary lesbian

To eccentric recluse.

I traded in frolics

For respectability.

Received

The dregs

Of coffee grounds

And cat shit.

So indoors,

Alone,

Craft dreams

Implausible

Of immortality.

Guardian ghosts,

Illusory,

We ride at dawn

Into the abyss.


Andrea Lambert is the author of Jet Set Desolate, Lorazepam & the Valley of Skin: Extrapolations on Los Angeles and the chapbooks G(u)ilt and Lexapro Diary. Anthologies: Impact, Golden State 2017, Haunting Muses, Writing the Walls Down and elsewhere. Twitter: @AndreaLamber. andreaklambert.com.

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