print too small, kitchen closed
Sophie is smiling against the overpass & saying
the wine will not run out / the way we ran out of the lounge
& down the alley / dragged by the Aubry / you so rosy
you kissed me in the street / never call me beautiful, just ask
what it tastes like / if trampled violets / not rotting, only
compressed / tiny wet flowers from a thin-skinned grape
the tannins only whispering / cranberry mustard & brie falling
apart in the room’s heat / you don’t warn new ones
of my name anymore / never say pretty except as a stopping
place / let them wonder where the alley led / if we made it home still
touching / more important to fill mouth with what can be chewed / clean
pink steak & fingerlings / not carnuba or plastic / those wax lips
what a difference a wrapper makes / we clean the plate / the wine will not
run out / glass sitting thinner than the color told me / decant
the last sip / don’t warn anyone you’ve had me / let me yell, pen
a love letter regarding duck poutine & Crown Royal
burnt through with banana Runts / don’t kiss me
in public unless I exceed all reviews
self-portrait, watching the boys
to be so easy
in my body, to not notice
anybody at all
touching & taking every-
thing but other me’s
what must it be like
what must just being be like
I don’t crave manhood / just
understanding
surviving on sour cream & cold
coffee / never sweating where
they can see / tell me
I’m pretty which is fine / call me
a terror please / I’d rather
scare you successfully into never
telling cruel jokes
I muscle my way
to standing / watch my martini
careen through Kansas City
the painting brutes have got
their way again / I’m not artist
I’m a rolodex, a masthead
a who to screw when lighting
the flashbulb
Emily O’Neill is a writer, artist, and proud Jersey girl. Her recent poems and stories can be found in The Journal, Redivider, and Washington Square, among others. Her debut collection, Pelican, is the inaugural winner of YesYes Books’ Pamet River Prize. She is the author of three chapbooks: Celeris (Fog Machine, 2016), You Can’t Pick Your Genre (Jellyfish Highway, 2016), and Make a Fist & Tongue the Knuckles (Nostrovia! Poetry, forthcoming). She teaches writing at the Boston Center for Adult Education and edits poetry for Wyvern Lit. Find more of her work at emily-oneill.com.