Cheeks soft like a yarn doll
her rabbit fang nails
massacre felt scraps on break.
She gathers grass
not for a nest of hair,
(green and brown prairie tones,)
But to reflect softly upon
the lifespan of green beetles.
Imagine each color palette a fairy.
The palette fairies hold up
well under glass,
like salmon on ice,
tremble under the matron’s
many diamond rings
swap game night monikers—
Reds the color of bitch fest and skinned knee
Who will sacrifice their wings to
Not Pansy, but Pernicious.
Not Rosebud, but seam splitting
thigh high Ricochet Rhododendron.
Crisp limbs curl under newfangled hair
dos to do wop one more lavender lip
or saucer plate eyelid.
It’s all a game of woo the fucked up porn-cess.
Her Edward Hopper miasma is
Nick Cave, Alice B. Toklas, Condi Rice.
JENNIFER MACBAIN-STEPHENS is the author of three chapbooks: Every Her Dies (ELJ Publications), Clotheshorse (Finishing Line Press, 2014), and Backyard Poems (Dancing Girl Press, forthcoming 2015). Recent work can be seen / is forthcoming at Toad Suck Review, Red Savina Review, The Poetry Storehouse, Bareknuckle Poet: Journal of Letters, Quail Bell Magazine, Diverse Voices Quarterly, Flapperhouse, and Hobart. For a complete list of publications and other odds and ends visit: http://jennifermacbainstephens.wordpress.com/