Issue
#4

July
2009

 

2 poems by Aleathia Drehmer

 

jesus doesn't have a woodshop

you want that built in baby
the girl that fawns all over you,
washes your clothes
and fixes your meals.

you want that built in vixen
to lead you to the bedroom
and shove you down on the sheets,
climb aboard and be the captain of you.

you want that built in little girl,
with her sweet smile
and coquettish eyes that beg you
to save her soul from the world.

you want that built in woman,
the one that navigates the sea
without a lighthouse, without a flare
and finds shore every time.

she doesn't live here
she doesn't exist here
she doesn't want to be
the craft of your hand.

© Aleathia Drehmer


The Sadist

Little cuts under the cuticle,
nail beds bleeding
imperceptible to anyone
except you, and sparingly
you'd lash me outright.

The welts raised and angry
and I would think I needed
secret degradations to grow,
couldn't fathom them as malicious.

All the while
whispering to myself,
I deserved that one.

© Aleathia Drehmer


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