A Poem By Kristina Ten

by Mark Bibbins, Editor


I have too many bones in my feet and
I have too many teeth in my mouth and
I put too much clout in follower count
and you, my belly my lemon my grove

This house is split by computer cables
This house has tables that drop every plate
This house is thigh-chafed sun-spoilt and Christ-cradled
and you, my wet mozzarella my love

And you, sugar pill pilled sweater sweet jam
And you, my jelly meat suckled and shorn
And you, my kill and my kill and my kill and my

City’s dumpling makers all went on strike
My city is spite gold brass Stoli commercials
My city is sure-footed falling uphill
and you, my wall stud my knock knock my screw

If you cannot be honest at least burn the truth
If you cannot be ruthless at least admit that

This star will one day throw us clean off
This star coughs through Czech words it would mispronounce
This star is bounced checks rising boats blown raspberries
and you, my shower curtain my mildew

I will braid the veins in your translucent wings
I will sell your ivory on Amazon Prime

I will watch you spread lotion across your new legs
I will beg it will rhyme I will beg I will beg I will

Call you my house and my city and star

When you cannot be human just be what you are

Kristina Ten is a dog person and a people person, in that order. Her work has appeared in Word Riot, The Literateur, Pantheon Magazine, Quiet Lightning’s sparkle + blink, and SP CE’s LOVEbook. She lives in San Francisco.

You will find more poems here. You may contact the editor at poems@theawl.com.