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Morning After
Karen Locascio I meet someone I should’ve known before last night and flirt like a couch thrown from a dormitory window while he kisses his girl, his ex-wife. im no good @ this right? I reply to your text, like you’re waiting, smoking outside, for my bus. Like it’s not a gross exaggeration from a ghost. So, I panic and steal a book on Marie Antoinette last night because it’s pink (so rich she wore pigeon blood, so white she bled eiderdown, snow) and you both got girls sucking pillows and I got a guillotine from Ikea. I’m no good at being upright, so I kneel. I rip apart, bleed, congeal. Bad idea #3025: you text me i may drink n drive for a bit like I’m home waiting. I lose my keys and cool. I turned my heat up last night and down. I fill my flask and I run away by bus and I come home early. I forget who’s who so I don’t reply dont do this 2 me. I mean, shit, I’m no good at this, right? You got me mixed up. Do I flirt? Fuck? Kiss? Steal? Fight? No, I’ll drink til it hides my scent. I’ll fall off the grid. No, I know: I’ll meet you on the train again like it’s our first last night, I’ll write it’s over before it begins. Because I’m no good at this. Right. |
Karen Locascio is a recent graduate of the University of
Massachusetts-Boston with a MFA in poetry. Her work has appeared or is
forthcoming in Amethyst Arsenic, Spry Literary Journal, Cider Press
Review, Paper Nautilus, and others.
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© 2014 Window Cat Press
