by Hanna Mangold. This poem appeared in Boshemia Magazine: Technology & the Sublime.
you better listen up
because it will sound like
i love you, but it will come out
like grass stains
on my easter dress like
cigarettes on my breath like blood on
my sleeves like vomit in my hair
your broken nose, my black
eye. your ghosts,
my angels. your endless love,
your little bird bones, the dark
green waters of your soul.
be happy. be
happy. be happy.