Atrocity Exhibition
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2 poems by Emily O'Neill

11/8/2015

2 Comments

 

even the alphabet betrays me

you can sing a song to remember what order
the lies come. pretend you're a unicorn.
that you're magic. rare. light. pretend you're hurting
& shouldn't someone help you. pretend to love me
until the trap closes. there is no spell for spelling this.
pretend you'll die if I divorce myself from being useful.
you're a no-kill shelter, Emily. if you don't soothe
the struggle, you become the problem's source.

I don't have custody of the sham marriage.
somebody put our mutt down, then
buried her under the back porch
with the dead lawn mower. phonics of no.
you can sing it when the door slams
on your hand or you can sing it before
you've been buried or you can rattle your chains
down the hall from your demons as if
you don't all share a house. I'm all of the above.
injured. buried. singing. vacant. home is
where the start hid. home is where the spark bit.
home misspelled as hold me. I divorce
myself. I'm only just beginning
to tell it. home is where
you held me down.



​

one room city
 

the bar full
of no one wanting
you to stay so
stop showing up
already / stupid dead
bird I re-meet 
every gutter I'm not
going to bury you
nor am I the kind of shot
who kills without sighting

I see you drifting down
the window bloody
chin, beady-eyed
you're sober as September
attentive to your hate sprigs
treating them like succulents
pouring beer & beer / blow
foam away over the yard
in dripping clouds

keg kicks / I have nothing
left to tap or empty
my new ghost ate the prints
off his fingers he doesn't
believe in robin's egg blue
doesn't gun the engine
won't ring me or the party

stop barging in on neighbors
expecting sugar where
there is none / there’s nothing
to key no mortuary no double
barreled death for us I'll plant
a fern & walk off feathered
alive uncomfortable introduced
to everybody as one you mean
to blot out by imitation
 




Emily O'Neill is a writer, artist, and proud Jersey girl. Her recent poems and stories can be found in The Journal, Redivider, and Washington Square, among others. Her debut collection, Pelican, is the inaugural winner of Yes Yes Books' Pamet River Prize and she edits poetry for Wyvern Lit. You can find her online @tabernacleteeth.
2 Comments
Matte Blk link
8/29/2020 06:02:16 pm

beautifull name - Emily.
Why dont we RITE Upstairs?
Our blogOramma tells ya how.
GBY

Reply
Matte Blk link
4/3/2022 04:36:29 pm

Heads-up, girl:
Take your first finger and hold
it close to your indelible thumb;
the spaceNbetween is how long
our lives are - then comes eternity:
Seventh-Heaven or Abyss o'Misery
(yes, dear, Purgatory is true as
the Son Shining upon humanity).
○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○
And who decides which realm?
WEE do! Ourselves! And our eyes!
...according to the deeds WEE have
accomplished in our WEE lifetime!
☆☆☆ nrg2xtc.blogspot.com ☆☆☆
I'm a true, Near Death Experiencer.
---> God Bless You.
---> I'll pray for you.
---> God ain't a religion;
God's a relationship.

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