sucker

 

we all

wanted to screw

the substitute,

he was the only dude,

running the halls

of our all girl school,

and every time he passed by,

we’d drop our pencils

bending over

just to make him cry,

wearing our little, short,

catholic school skirts,

knowing

the games we played

were barely anything

a boy could handle,

much less

a desperate grown man,

who was always

just one dirty look away

from fixing our grades,

while enjoying the perks

of his new side job.

 

  

metal

 

growing up

you were the only guy

i would’ve done anything for

 

and how

we managed

to not hurt each other

 

through

the wreckage

of our combined flaws

 

is

nothing

short of a miracle

 

i guess

we both naively hoped

our artistic outlets would save us,

 

as it turns out,

the needle has stolen

your limelight once again

 

all i can do

is worry myself to death

when i get a text out of the blue

 

because i’m glad

to know you’re still alive

but wonder for how long

 

sorry

about feeling

all alone out on that road

 

hope

the groupies do their part,

giving you whatever you need,

 

that is,

until your broken ego

can bleed a more genuine story

 

as i keep

the memory

of our friendship, intact enough,

 

in the event

your senses return home

to those who actually give a fuck.

 

 

sorry but my memory was shot

 

i couldn’t remember

what brand of booze you wanted,

 

though it was

of utmost importance,

 

moving into

the new apartment, and all,

 

who knew it would lead

to you waving your gun around,

 

talking about how everyone

had always let you down

 

as i hurried to pour the liquor

into your already chilled glass,

 

sliding it towards

those madly shaking hands,

 

all the while making myself

the mental note

 

to bring

a better grocery list, next time.

 

 

not positive

 

but i’m

pretty

sure

death

will be

in good

spirits

when

he comes

for me.

 

shady proposition

 

death

was

the worse

possible

character

to buy

anything

from,

but he was

pimpin’

so many

sexy poems,

i had to

get me some.

 

Eliana Vanessa is originally from Argentina and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana at a young age. She recently participated in 100,000 Poets for Change (2018) and served as part of a panel of poets in The Jane Austen Festival (2017, 2018, 2019).   You can find her work online at The Blue Nib, Beneath The Rainbow, The Sirens Call, The Ramingo’s Porch, Ariel Chart, The Horrorzine, Fearless, Drinker’s Only, The Rye Whiskey Review and Punk Noir as well as in the following anthologies: Masks Still Aren’t Enough (2019), Americans And Others (2019), and A Dark And Stormy Night: Sixteen Halloween Tales (2019). She is Eliana Vanessa on Facebook at the following link: https://www.facebook.com/eliana.vanessa.7758

smile, kindly, in self-defense

 

i brace

before my bff, Mike,

the detective, talks,

especially around

the holidays,

 

the conversation

often begins with a compliment,

something along the lines of,

“Babydoll, you know i love your smile,

but remember…”

 

then he’ll

go on to inform me,

for the umpteenth time,

that crime and riff-raff

start with premature laughter,

 

and that

i should watch my step

or i’d end up like the woman

he once knew who worked

downtown like i do,

 

she had the smile of a clown,

in his own words,

and, absurdly,

bought every parking attendant

a gift for Christmas, that is,

 

until

she got thrown

in her own trunk,

found, days later,

murdered,

 

and he

thinks nothing

of telling me these things

one week before

the twenty fifth of December

 

as he’s

walking me to my car,

street lights, resembling bright eyes,

appearing above both sides of us

in the dark,

 

suddenly,

he realizes my gestures

have gotten more serious

and blurts out,

“i didn’t mean to scare you, Love,”

 

 

 

even though we both know

it’s exactly what he wanted to do.

and all i can think of to say

that might lighten

the mood is,

 

“let me get this straight,

you want me to wait, till the body’s cold,

before making any jokes? …got it!”

to which he grins, warmly,

and replies, “exactly.”

 

Biography

Eliana Vanessa is originally from Argentina and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana at a young age. She recently participated 100,000 Poets for Change (2018) and served as part of a panel of poets in The Jane Austen Festival (2017, 2018, 2019).   You can find her work online at The Horror Zine, The Rye Whiskey Review, and The Sirens Call Ezine, The Ramingo’s Porch, Ariel Chart, Beneath the Rainbow, and Fearless. Her poetry appears in two recent anthologies: Masks Still Aren’t Enough (2019) and Americans and Others (2019). She is Eliana Vanessa on Facebook at the following link: https://www.facebook.com/eliana.vanessa.7758.

conversation with a dull razor

 

go back

to the sting

of disillusionment

you know so well,

and don’t let me

catch you

cavorting with the sacred

on this side of hell anymore—

just a reminder

that a demon, like you,

rearing its ugly head

is more sincere when left

on the corner of crystal clear

and already dead.

 

pussy elixir

 

i wanted it

to be the title

of my first collection,

 

but he wasn’t having it,

nor did he want to hear

my explanation,

 

so i hung up the phone,

and masturbated,

out of sheer frustration,

 

thinking,

almost instantaneously,

that it still worked just fine, for me.

Eliana Vanessa is originally from Argentina and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana at a young age. She recently participated 100,000 Poets for Change (2018) and served as part of a panel of poets in The Jane Austen Festival (2017, 2018, 2019).   You can find her work online at The Horror Zine, The Rye Whiskey Review, and The Sirens Call Ezine, The Ramingo’s Porch, Ariel Chart, Beneath the Rainbow, and Fearless. Her poetry appears in two recent anthologies: Masks Still Aren’t Enough (2019) and Americans and Others (2019). She is Eliana Vanessa on Facebook at the following link: https://www.facebook.com/eliana.vanessa.7758.

birthday suit

 

bobby pins

falling all over the floor—

you’d pulled them out, one by one,

with your teeth, jokingly asking,

how many more of these, Sugar?

 

that’s when

i shook my wild locks free,

losing the nude dress too,

to what felt like the arms of winter,

daring me to go skinny-dipping,

 

i agreed,

needing to get the stench

of so many cigarettes off my skin,

though you opted to watch me swim,

which was a bit unnerving,

 

sitting

in one of those

fold-up lawn chairs,

loaded, tripping on edibles,

and chasing them with Jim Beam,

 

your girlfriend,

blowing up your phone, as usual–

it was two in the morning before you

came up with a bad story, about being late,

said it was your buddy’s birthday,

 

of course

i took this as my cue,

stumbling out of the pool,

towards the heat of your lap,

and i think maybe

 

all of about

ten minutes

might’ve passed,

before we both finished,

and you offered me another light.

 

to be continued

 

i remember

the dead of that night,

how the wicked, cold rain,

made my wet heels slip,

as i drove, in a frenzy,

to meet him

 

the parking lot was empty,

so it seemed like out of nowhere

when his dark figure slipped

into the passenger’s seat,

me, sitting there, waiting,

with a gun

 

i tried

to stay calm

as i handed it to him,

mumbling something about how

i knew he’d take care of it,

but he was too angry to reply

 

nevertheless,

one of his hands,

lingered

on my thigh,

while the other worked

its way over my bottom

 

he smirked,

and, with a squeeze,

said he’d have to spank me later,

what with all the trouble

i’d gotten him into

as of late

 

he continued,

unbuttoning my shirt,

claiming too much blood,

smeared all over our small town,

would have us both thrown in jail

 

that we’d

never make bail,

based on the sheer number

of bullets i’d emptied on his best friend,

but that, yes, it meant we could

finally be together

 

and if

it weren’t for such a

brutal storm moving through,

we’d have our bags packed already,

he whispered “Sit tight,

Baby Girl, hold steady,

 

 

say goodbye

until i can be sure

what our next move will be,”

then he laid

his signature kiss on me,

had me moaning with relief

 

afterwards,

the lights and sirens

did not register as quickly,

not until i had to reapply my lipstick—

that’s when i caught a glimpse of that

damn detective, pulling up in the rear view.

 

Eliana Vanessa is originally from Argentina and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana at a young age. She recently participated 100,000 Poets for Change (2018) and served as part of a panel of poets in The Jane Austen Festival (2017, 2018, 2019).   You can find her work online at The Horror Zine, The Rye Whiskey Review, and The Sirens Call Ezine, The Ramingo’s Porch, Ariel Chart, Beneath the Rainbow, and Fearless. Her poetry appears in two recent anthologies: Masks Still Aren’t Enough (2019) and Americans and Others (2019). She is Eliana Vanessa on Facebook at the following link: https://www.facebook.com/eliana.vanessa.7758.