Legs or Nerves
when he calls you all legs
you feel chilled in the stale summer air
a fog of regret, of the green leaves you
smoked intertwines with your lungs
pink like the rising sun, or the color on
your lips as he would see it
he calls you all legs, but you feel
you are only all nerves
only a collection of nerves that will
only be loved for the islands on your hips
or on your chest, but he will not see
the pink of your lungs, only the pink
of your lips, breathing in the smoke
of the greenery blown in by the summer winds
and that is the curse of eve
the curse of your hips and your lips
a prison, or an island as he sees it
When a Girl Loves a Girl
Google search
“how to kiss a girl”
open on a phone screen
private mode so Momma
won’t see
Scroll, see caricatures
of boys blushing, bumbling
bees they are, drinking nectar
from pink and purple flowers
they keep at their side
Think of the Cool Girl
you met for frozen yogurt
Her smile the sun
a golden, shining, medallion
The lines on her palms a map
of India, debates with a
“batshit crazy” mother, and
late night rendezvous
with boys and girls alike
You want to hold her
but all you can do is blush
you blushing purple flower
Maybe you’ll go in for a kiss tomorrow
About the author: Madeleine Poole is a seventeen year old aspiring writer from North Carolina. You can find more of her work at The Craft Journal and Canvas Literary Journal. When she's not writing, you can usually find her spending time with her cat or eating Vietnamese food.
