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FIVE MICRO POEMS BY MARNIE RITCHIE

INVITING CONSEQUENCE BY JONAH SIMONAK
July 13, 2019
THREE POEMS BY KELLI SIMPSON
July 16, 2019
Making an entrance
I wanted to arrive wearing
pearly silk gloves and a gun and
the black hair dye worn by Hedren in
And nothing else at all
Letters I write myself
A grocery list I cannot access because my phone has died,
Drafts of tweets that take quotes out of context,
The real angry stuff my therapist cautions against releasing
To exes and parents and loved ones,
Never a message to myself in five years—what kind of unforgiving ghoul will I be
Death contract
Love is a death contract signed with clammy palms, and if you’re lucky, cum,
All of it a series of promises to sit and lay, mostly
to put down ink—no matter the extraction—
again and again on the dotted lines of one’s limited days
You cannot tell me you love me
Or rather, you won’t. (So there.*)
*I am not crazy.
What do you matter
The tree a fold of soil of water of sunlight of bugs of fossils—
And when you think you are most at peace with it,
Nietzsche’s blue bird passes by and chirps,
“What do you matter?” Twice.

 


Marnie Ritchie is a queer writer and professor of rhetoric living in Tacoma, WA with her cat Lenu. She enjoys reading about trees because she finds them more interesting than people.