3 from Starlit

Jenny Lumet

the girls with the hunky sweaterdresses & the metallic
flats from the cover of the new issue of seventeen
which arrived in the mailbox yesterday because
it is november, 1981, diana has conceived william, reagan has
appointed o’connor, whitney houston is one of 
of the girls, all the girls at school the next day


Misty Upham

like boarding the bus with new boobs but
forbidden to speak in broad terms, troll-dolls
like the dread at every party emanating from the beastie
boy posters on the walls, the kegs, as the fraternal dead
incline their narratives, their heads, their hands like
grenades, everywhere, the weight of easy victories
after centuries instead, all the malice toward a girl propped
against mens fake, half-assed delight & stupid pleasures
their lonely showy, expectant cruelty, wretched
with their false valor, the bullshit of a compendium’s
eternal nonsense: their genius & their uselessness, 
their multiplex of violation
as we sink like moss


Annabella Sciorra

as if in a dream we reenacted
submerged foundries tyrannies
/behind that flimsy door in lawndale/
I was of/a clutch of girls/& always
wondered/what happened to you

in all our hell-bent escapade/
& of all our valiant whatevs/

unknot this/unknow(n) this/
this, we un-inherit

as this, we dispossess