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.