WOLF CRIES GIRL
AMY LAFRANKIE
sometimes I wish I was boneless faceless skinless. do you like my smile, dear boy? the way it makes you howl in your sated skin? did you enjoy de-thirsting your hand with back of my thighs/hips/ass, sweet boy? I sleepwalk in hopes of finding comfort in something not of my bed, bottom of the stairs, crevices of your palm, stained kitchen sink. boy, I am no erato o psyche, I wish you dead. I kiss three gods and they tell me I must repose in the inside of my rotting skin. I stay there for three years like black cavity on a milk-clean tooth. I am an acolyte to my own escape. I return with my skull exposed, waves of hunger on the flatbed of my tongue for wolves who eat the brave. I strip for you, boy, peeled off the supple skin you craved for. I lay naked and wet in the middle of the hardwood floor, wolf lungs are collapsing all over. are you turned on, boy? I hear you outside my window, no howls, only calling for my name. that night, I sleep in my bed.
THE CORPSE DIARY
AMY LAFRANKIE
my lolo says I must grow wood bones, tree bones
bone deep love in the farmed fields where I was born
under the scalding sun where he says I cried for in joy.
I avoid knife kisses and the holiness I feel in between my
skin when I watch boyhood of eighteen sitting on our porch
drinking lukewarm cola, moon smile deer face religion on his sleeves
I say I like the sound of his neck when it snaps –
he cross stitches words into my gums says that its nice to
see them when I smile, astilbe hair blackberry tongue
says he sees another god through my eyes;
I’ve never had a good night of sleep after that.
tenderness in my bones I wish lolo could stop them
damnation to birdwing peanutbrittle cobweb bones
he will set up a requiem, gold scented heat filled white blinded
I will come back wood tree trunk root heavy soil
an absolution – no soft loving boyhood to kiss me dear
only me under the scalding sun, knees burnt awakened lungs
smiling, smiling
bone deep love in the farmed fields where I was born
under the scalding sun where he says I cried for in joy.
I avoid knife kisses and the holiness I feel in between my
skin when I watch boyhood of eighteen sitting on our porch
drinking lukewarm cola, moon smile deer face religion on his sleeves
I say I like the sound of his neck when it snaps –
he cross stitches words into my gums says that its nice to
see them when I smile, astilbe hair blackberry tongue
says he sees another god through my eyes;
I’ve never had a good night of sleep after that.
tenderness in my bones I wish lolo could stop them
damnation to birdwing peanutbrittle cobweb bones
he will set up a requiem, gold scented heat filled white blinded
I will come back wood tree trunk root heavy soil
an absolution – no soft loving boyhood to kiss me dear
only me under the scalding sun, knees burnt awakened lungs
smiling, smiling
AMY LAFRANKIE is a young mestiza poet living in the Philippines. Her work has previously appeared or is forthcoming in Ascend, Murmur Journal and elsewhere. She tweets (@pangiht).
