by Jennifer Lobaugh
you come to me with whispers shaped like
rusted trauma shears, and I don’t know what
to make of all these wires,
these toothsome maledictions—
the way your spine concaves to mine—
my toxic predilection—
topography of all your scars.
so kiss me like a scalpel, sting of
poison on my tongue. find me in the
darkest bruises, in the mare imbrium,
that honeyed contradiction—
faithless daughter of the plains—
that brown-eyed dereliction—
to dusty deaths and moonshine squall.
Jennifer Lobaugh is a recent graduate of the University of Oklahoma. Fluent in French, Russian, and Sarcasm, she currently lives with her kid brother Nathan and her shamefully spoiled dog Toby. Her poems have been published in Gutter Eloquence Magazine, Phantom Kangaroo, and other journals.

© 2012, Jennifer Lobaugh