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Feature
Poet:
Jennifer
Poteet
I'm Not Bitter
I want you in the backseat of a car
all flushed and open
but we won't talk about that.
I would love
to bed you
in daylight,
your supposed
fears lofted by the wind
like dandelion fuzz--
but
why don't we
just sit here, instead,
in this stale room
that stinks of cigarettes
and my lurid desires
and discuss Coleridge, Keats
and your mother
burying the obvious
in dusty tombs?
A Brief Sidebar
Arguably, she was a hard case
and then she got harder after that.
I wouldn't deny
life with her was a trial.
Obsessive, moody, a temper
and not even beautiful.
Jury's out on that one, Counselor;
not that I'm judging you.
And How Do You Want Your Daily Grind?
Cats sit in windows and dream of the hunt.
Some accept their milk-soaked enslavement,
but you and I choke down the cream
and fill out time sheets with our greedy paws.
Night draws down its filmy shade
as cats sit in windows and dream of the hunt.
When your cup is empty all you taste are the dregs
so you and I choke down the cream.
Even when we wake before the alarm,
the sun will always mask its mourning.
The man who shares our commute is fully-vested,
but will soon declare bankruptcy.
Fatigued with fear of the tightened belt,
we wake before the alarm.
How many tricks must we turn today?
The man who shares our commute wears a fine black hat.
The sun will always mask its mourning
as workers turn into corpses at their desks.
Our souls have all declared bankruptcy.
Cats sit in windows and dream of the hunt.
July 4th Holiday Tirade
Fireworks go off
both outside and in here
and I can't listen anymore.
Your episodes and fake propriety
aren't the least patriotic
so put your flag away.
You should be ashamed,
behaving like this on a holiday
after I went to the store
and bought us all of
this beautiful meat.
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Jennifer Poteet is
a member of the Hudson Pier Poets. By day, she works in Direct
Marketing for the Cable TV industry. Her poetry has appeared in
various web zines including: Stirring, Poetry Super Highway, PoetryMagazine.Com,
2River View, The Absinthe Literary Review, Thunder Sandwich and
The Astrophysicist's Tango Partner Speaks. She will soon be published
in Salonika. Jennifer is currently compiling a collection of poetry
tentatively titled Flights in Purgatory and will soon begin a
search for a publisher. She's also a mean salsa and merengue dancer.
You can reach her at: mailbabe@mailcity.com.
Quick Open Mic:
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Clip of Poet
The Grand Opening of the New Liquor Store
Nice with ice,
they aim to please,
wining us
with their specials
and stacks of gleaming bottles.
A kid in a candy store,
I finger my discount card;
eye the gins and vodkas,
apritifs and ports.
I scoff at the bottled water,
stock up on cigarettes,
cuddle up to the cordials
but then leave with the
Bordeaux,
a nice French on each arm.
Medusa at Midday
When she lit
a cigarette
from the burner on the stove
he was afraid
her long hair
would burst into flames.
His desire
threatened to turn him to ashes.
She tapped her cigarette
against the sink,
let the water wash
gray silt
into a labyrinth
of snakes.
She took him deep inside
her lungs, blew him out.
Her smile was air;
her eyes his lunch.
He wanted to make her
something to eat
on the burner on the stove.
She wasn't hungry;
lit another cigarette.
Tanqueray Tanka
We met over limes
in a yuppie bar, pierced flesh
and ice over music.
I could not hear my conscience;
sipping gin, pressed under glass.
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