…This poem was published yesterday:
…And I got seven of the pieces below accepted at Nailpolish Stories. Can you guess which ones?
Her breasts lay in the trash somewhere. He didn’t care. It was her heart he wanted. To prove it, he kissed each stitch with tenderness.
Skirting the Issue
The scratch marks resembled a polygraph test and she smelled of her lover again. In bed she yawned, said, “Love you,” nodding off at once.
He bought her a new chest, new nose, had her skin pulled taut until she was prettier than the last one, fake but easily adored.
After the divorce, their sex is better than ever. The bedroom rumbles. His Ex showers quickly, says, “I’m so glad we’re not in love anymore.”
Off the Wall
She said, “It’s me, not you. Besides, we were too young.” The last photograph you burn is a honeymoon shot, bride and groom on fire.
With the Band
They call her Penny Lane, take turns. One throws up on a guitar, another brakes a snare. She’s meat but she’s also their biggest fan.
His dad is The Strong Man, shocking spectators with his might, having bills tossed his way. At home, he sharpens his knuckles on each kid.
Tight as a corset, her wedding dress itched, but they recited vows anyway, one of them lying, the other already looking for a way out.
The Girls Are Out
Initiation into Gamma Phi meant a van full of frat boys. Her sorority sisters said they’d each done it. They opened the door and watched.
The house sits empty now, so he fondles the pistol the way he once did his Ex, the searing bullet hot as her last kiss.