Kimberly Ann Southwick

Kimberly Ann Southwick is the founder & editor in chief of the biannual print literary arts journal GIGANTIC SEQUINS. She has two poetry chapbooks, EVERY SONG BY PATSY CLINE (dancing girl press, February 2014) & EFS & VEES (Hyacinth Girl Press, October 2015). A poem of hers was recently a finalist for the 2016 Yemassee Poetry Prize. She lives in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, where she is pursuing her PhD in English/Creative Writing at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. Find more at kimberlyannsouthwick.com & follow her on twitter: @kimannjosouth.

 

 

change

 

 

say something nice like          you can’t stop thinking about me

 

the thing about fantasies      is that they make better memories

 

let’s go out dancing after this                      let’s do something we have never done

 

push quarters into a jukebox                        drink and wait for our song

 

go to the movies together    not watch the movie at all

 

or maybe go back to your kitchen                         play whatever music we want

 

tiles groaning beneath our feet                  and or like all the dirt in heaven

 

I am a terrible dancer though

 

                                     the thing about moving                      is once I’m gone I’m gone       

 

don’t close your eyes don’t               tell me about the weather

 

the thing about feelings         is that even if you don’t tell me what yours are

 

I still know you have them     inside the fabric that is your internal organs

 

a heart beats different colors                                               say something frightening like

 

you can’t stop thinking about me 

 

 

 

cocks

 

 

it’s mating season

 

I want to hug every dog on the island of Vieques

 

the fans in the vacation kitchen and living room       race

 

the kitchen fan says     whee look at me

 

the living room fan says          slow down wait

 

for the punch                                 for the punchline

 

the kitchen fan blinks her light like a brown out

 

the living room fan winks back

 

two fans are better than one

 

two dogs are too            but two roosters             are not

 

cock a doodle doo

 

 

 

chamomile

 

 

the big empty of having something to empty

 

if nothing else there are boxes to unpack

 

if not books read tea leaves

 

let me tell you your fortune  hand me your hand

 

your life line and mine intersect at this feather of a crossroads

 

your love line is axesplit fewer times than mine         your head line

 

it’s bright like a bare bulb      blinding

 

but see here you don’t use it well  you tongue tie and shift

 

no one can read you except when you write it down

 

use your best penmanship    invisible ink and a vanishing cabinet

 

squeeze the nearest squid     when we leave for the sea we can never come back

 

pull the anchor from the riverfloor                     we’re out of here

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