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Friday, May 1, 2015

Featuring Heather Blank


my head is wrapped around
a pic of your tattooed arm,

(that i haven’t seen
in almost years)

like an alcohol infused
Corolla wrapped around a tree.

wrecked, broken, shattered,

now sitting in a junkyard graveyard,
awaiting demolition, or
the eventual erosion of abandonment.



The heat ran down her legs and neck,
Collected in her hair and on her thighs.
Mosquitoes danced and teased,
Bit hands and knees.
He was just like them,
Buzzing in her ear.
Her breath so short and tight with each
Syllable, he never slowed down.
With her eyes closed, the sun sank
On her face, as she would on his, melting.


death rattle.

she is slathered in profanity pickling a perpetual frown,
that holds all happiness prisoner.
there was no light that February day.

hundreds of voices, circulating, masking
a downtrodden, lipless grin,
she is stagnant in her movement,
a slow-motion free-fall into stasis.

the pine box is waiting,
its splinters itching
we cannot dig the hole fast enough.

her life stutters, flummoxed
each day; echoes of
switchblades flicking, and
snakes hissing in the mattress
as she plods along, making eyes at the ceiling
awaiting the death rattle.


I tire of the endless email specials I receive in my inbox,
for lingerie I don’t buy anymore.
Spicy! Sexy!
Remember when I thought it mattered,
That seductive things would keep you?
The lace and snaps should have locked you in place;
secure as my thigh highs, love tangled like fishnets.


When Heather was found, she was as good as feral. Her captors tried their best, but soon realized they weren’t qualified for the task. She lives in Dallas, TX.