Violet Mitchell

TWO POEMS

SEAT 23A   This is your first flight. You are antsy and loud, crawling around the seat to gaze at all the sleeping eyes that are going to the same place. People with neck pillows frown at you when you sneeze tiny, but you don’t mind. Even when the seatbelt sign is on, you run across the aisle to the man with even darker skin than you and say, Grandpa, let’s sing the alphabet again. He always starts out strong, then pretends to mix up Q and Z in with L and M, and lets you proudly educate him...

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TWO POEMS

The Modern Wolf   Melon shoes stomping all over the cup crinkled oak, we are invincible dancers. We order only waters from the bar and wear pants instead of dresses, and I love the feeling of hair on your back. Statistically, of course random colognes would pounce on real-life lesbians. Who are you here with? under the clouds and static, he tries to kiss us both. Slobber always results in threes: stitched quickly to my turning cheek; the beat of the song where I braid Emma to my fingers; pulling her away as hard as I fucking can. Counting...

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