3 Poems for World Poetry Day
two months after meeting
i gave up on pretending cliches don’t apply to us
the night in venice
when you spun me around to “sleepwalk”
in the living room
of the apartment we rented.
then you fell asleep
after we both came between borrowed sheets.
you didn’t know it
but i cried in the bathroom
over the stones in the sink.
i am in love with the cursive in your hair
and how you look at me,
drawing portraits with your pupils
of the way my neck
introduces itself to your lips.
but you don’t know what’s coming.
you have yet to learn
that i drop cups
just to see how the glass sprawls.
— Sam Escobar
en tierra firma
reentry is a horizontal creep
sidling me back into something I’d forgotten was so mine
as the newer glittery bits slip away
(wrapping limbs, whispers shot through with consonants,
all the staring and the starting and the too much good)
til there’s nothing left but fantasy
(come here // live as a loop inside my ear)
and sleeping next to photos of beds
— Marian Bull
You take pleasure in
the small victories: those days
when you don’t eat at
all; how concave your
stomach looks in the morning;
when someone says, “You
look nice today.” You
want no more belly fat; you
want chicken legs. When
you want to cry, you
take sexy pics of yourself.
This is the life of
a failed anorexic.
A failed anorexic is still a failure.
— Eve Peyser