Dec/Jan Winter Wonderland Issue
Novatrix
by Kristy
Odelius
The girl behind the yellow fan
and the city cop, they were here?
The desk, leaning to light—
is it here, too?
Or none—the small hurts,
her footprints on the window,
the cuffs of fat, eastern winter?
The cop drops charges
in plain view, on the desk
lovely rings have long sunk out of sight.
Beneath her fringed hem the lies go dead.
Wings of fans keep them, but mute-liberation.
December Fling
by Kristy
Odelius
sledding, a golden apple luminous and cranky about making
up
it's mind, at last waking up to warm velveeta isn't love
or parapsychology only half as cool as the moon in a gift
box
or advice lumpy and overheard "oh harry just paint
the cradle any shade of red" all right! but last night we
grooved
on red silk stockings, joel staring down his loafers
photographically the room swooned left at every cue,
a
subtle tune, "silver bells" leaked from the corner, on the east
wall an angel, an amateurish nude, mooned the west-end at every
angle,
spun slowly to the beat of unprotected reading in
shadow-trees or street lights, conversations take time
