Lauren Milici

WHAT I AM ABOUT TO DO HAS NOT BEEN APPROVED BY THE VATICAN

I softened for you, raggedy

boy.

Your unmade bed. Your body,

an omen. I knew better.

I won’t

 

go gently, no—

You knew

this would end

in a knife

fight. An exchanging

of teeth.

 

I place your name

in my

mouth

& spit

the letters

into sigils.

 

This is the part where I show you

how good I am

at

everything.

Even this.

I THINK BURT REYNOLDS IS THE KIND OF GUY WHO KEEPS THE LIGHTS ON

tonight the sky is purple-yellow fire

& I’ve spent the day in bed.

sometimes I want a motel scene

starring coke on the dresser

or a gun in my hand.

I want the fairytale.

once I was drunk in the back of a cab

& a song came on the radio

that made me miss my mother.

I’m not too good at this anymore.

sometimes when a man says

I want to pin you

he means, to the wall

mounted like a prized buck.

we can talk about anything you want,

as long as you’re naked.

well I’m not,

but I could be.

This poem previously appears in Hobart.

Lauren Milici is a Jersey-born, Florida raised poet and writer currently based in the Midwest. When she isn’t crafting sad poems about sex, she’s either writing or shouting into the void about film, TV, and all things pop culture.