diy

"Ghost" and "Late to the Orgy" by Kate Greene

Ghost

Holy ghost of a peanut butter egg
On my tongue for you
My tongue for you

The world has turned upside down
World so different from what it was

Homemade margaritas remember
When the spent lemon half splatted on the floor
Sticky, we waited to pick it up
Of course not
It was just me, those days solo
Time still for you
To come over

Late to the Orgy

An upturned wooden table
One leg jagged like lightning
Ionizing like lightning
All day
It extends through air crackling
Sugared twine cast out
High as two birds who chirp, almost meet
Three men in conversation
Over some distance
A woman sings to dance
Thunder gone already
It’s such a beautiful day
I can tell
By texts and light through pulled windows
More cars on the street than in weeks
People are outside
But you
My small redoubled heart
And I are here
With this fantastic feather boa

-

Kate Greene is a writer living in New York. Her memoir in essays, Once Upon a Time I Lived on Mars, was published by St. Martin’s Press in 2020.

"Android Boy Abstains" and "Android Boy Visits the Arcade" by Derek Berry

Android Boy Abstains

In the summer, empathetic to soup cans,
I abandon tins on the bookshelf, films of scuzz
congealing above tomato bisque, cheddar broccoli.
Instead, I sneak scraps from the junkyard, stripped
from a rust-withered jalopy.

Once, on an airplane,
I slipped out the flask I had smuggled through security,
chewed its screw-top until sundered.
After I am wrestled to the aisle floor, I taste
for the first time
scotch,
taped to tongue like a memory not yet cemented.

& bedroom becomes landfill, cramped with fragments
undigested. & how to name this uninherited hunger, this new
sharpened lust?
Consider spilling brown onto the hard drive, letting it fry.
Even after the liquor corrodes my throat, metallic skin
bloomed a sick green hue, I archive moments
unremarkable enough to obliterate. What else
to delete in search of a quiet interface: passwords, bank card numbers?
Consider how torment might too be only the silent
reverberations after a high note. The holy
silence of the disconnected.
What else must we name Heaven before we become it?

Android Boy Visits the Arcade

I have climbed inside the claw crane machine in search of solace
& withered among plush clones of my yesterday-self, survived
on cotton stuffing until muscles atrophied into redemption tickets.
Bartered bones for rubber aliens I wear on fingertips &
packets of Laffy Taffy to sustain me through the winter.
They have unscrewed my head & sacrificed my skull at the altar of Skee-Ball,
self-cannibalization ritual in reverse: open mouth, spit
screws onto the psychedelic carpet,
cough myself up one scrap of tin at a time.
-
Derek Berry is the author of the forthcoming poetry chapbook Good Ghost: Alive & Intact (PRA Publishing 2018), the chapbook Skinny Dipping with Strangers (2013), and the novel Heathens and Liars of Lickskillet County (PRA Publishing, 2016). Their previous work has appeared or is forthcoming in BOAAT Journal, Pigeonholes, Glint Journal, K’in, armoralla, Fall Lines, Rabid Oak, & elsewhere. They are the co-founder of literary non-profit The Unspoken Word. They are the editor of Good Juju Review and co-host of the creative writing podcast Contribute Your Verse.