Saturday, 2018
THE BAYOU WHICH ISN’T VERY FULL RIGHT NOW / TRICKLING PAST REEKING LIKE GALVESTON WATER
I AM SITTING ON THE BANK OF THE BAYOU
AND THE APRIL HEAT IS SWELTERING AND
C— PASSES ME THE PIPE WE CAN’T
SMOKE IN HIS DAD’S CAR ONLY OUTSIDE
AND THERE ISN’T MUCH OUTSIDE HERE
LONG SPINDLY GRASS ITCHES MY LEGS AND
I AM COUGHING OUT A LUNG WHILE C—
GIGGLES AT ME I TRY TO REGAIN COMPOSURE
BECAUSE THEY’RE TAKING PHOTOS PHOTOS FOR
THE ‘GRAM AND MAYBE MY MOM WILL SEE THEM
SO I HIDE THE PARAPHERNALIA BEHIND MY BACK
GLASS NESTLED IN TALL GRASSES AND I JUST
SHAVED MY HEAD YESTERDAY SO THIS WILL
BE THE SOFT LAUNCH OF MY NATALIE PORTMAN
IMITATION CUT SUNGLASSES DOWN AS I FACE
THE BAYOU WHICH ISN’T VERY FULL RIGHT NOW
TRICKLING PAST REEKING LIKE GALVESTON WATER
I POSE POSE SMILE POSE FOR C— I AM STILL
COUGHING A LITTLE BIT AND THEY ARE LAUGHING AND
I WOULD LET THIS WILDGRASS EAT ME RIGHT UP
Veronica Bennett (she/they) is a Texan in Philadelphia. They're the founder/e.i.c./everything of Bullshit Lit Mag + Press. Her poems have been published by Rejection Letters, Anti-Heroin Chic, fifth wheel press, and Olney Magazine. More at vabnt.com or @vabnt.
