Solitary Vice

By Valerie Wetlaufer

I loved a girl
when I was a girl,
 
before I knew desire
could be used against me.
 
I so wanted to be relevant.
Simple exchange—
 
bouquets of wheat.
My dirt-stained hands,
 
tangled hair. I never
could be prim,
 
in apple-pie order.
I dropped all the eggs,
 
licking their smear
off my hands;
 
wrinkled her ribbons
into my pocket,
 
tore pages from her books,
all for the sake
 
of the lonely hour.

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad x
Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
Subscribe To: State Of The Arts Magazine
Privacy Policy: This information will never be shared with third parties.
Subscribe Now!
Subscribe To: State Of The Arts Magazine
Privacy Policy: This information will never be shared with third parties.
Subscribe Now!