Someone No One Everyone Anyone

and I put all this blood in, but things just get sticky No one’s a mess anyone

wants to pick up after, so I marched my ass down to the shack that flashed

LIVE MODELS in red and asked if they needed someone good with light.

Everyone was bronzed and someone was covered in glitter.

“Here,” I said, “hold that glow

lower” and motioned to someone who shone a weird green

light too high the shadows made everyone’s eyes onstage look

like pulsing suckholes. Limbs in that angle

seem tentacled with darknesses. I tsked, “That’s no way to shine a body.” Paula Mendoza's poems have [...]