1 by mereDITH blankinship
VERONICA SAYS
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for the alter-egos of Petro Moysaenko
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Veronica says
keep the knife out of its sheath Veronica is a prism Veronica fizzes & thwacks She yawns like a chainsaw at the books on the table asks for a glass of cooled gin Veronica is stark, uninhibited at brunch flossing her reflection in the window while people wait outside Veronica wanted me to tell you she put the razor blades in the champagne punch Some nights Veronica has that doggy kind of feeling inspiration for late-night good girls eating bunnies like chicken wings with their fingers Other times she's all static She's at the top of the pyramid scheme shoving basic bitches back down it's the limelight downtown A masterpiece flown into unrecognizable shapes Veronica takes & bakes them all into puffed-out hairy chests parading down the lane on Easter She wears an apron stained with cum & licks her fingers twice, smokes a blunt with her moms in the after Let me be clear: Veronica has nothing to do with the fucking weather Veronica withers anything that doesn't take cover Veronica's tattoo says SORRY NOT SORRY in her handwriting She's a perpetual practice A dogma that eats its own shit when it's nervous She's a bath in barbeque sauce She's a taco on a stick She cuts her arm to get some sunlight |
MEREDITH BLANKINSHIP is a recent graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She is a recent transplant to Atlanta, GA. Her poems have appeared in or are forthcoming from Heavy Feather Review, Sink Review, Finery, Petri Press, and Sawbuck Poetry, among others.
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