In the dream, we’re at a theater in Florida. You’ve got stage blood on your nice white shirt & I’m wearing a pink dress, velvet & borrowed. When we talk, my knees knock together.
Today I have a series of poems for you in the latest issue of Wyvern Lit written by Lauren Milici. Each individual piece carries its own dream-like narrative, details both liltingly strange, beautiful, and cutting in their frankness. There are the interwoven themes of abuse, mental illness, all the ugliness contained in human beings set in stark contrast against images that are bright or crisp, aesthetics of sharp reds; environments seen in high contrast.
as if nothing ever happened, as if some point in the night I won’t wiggle from your grip to see if the balcony doors will unlock so I can throw myself into the street below us
In these poems, place becomes more than just a neutral background, and develops its own dynamic driving force. Suddenly it has a stake to play in the language and structure. These poems read more like carefully interrupted, intentionally spliced scenes on a movie screen than just words. They seem to contain more than you could have expected, and through it all there is this note of intensity, of resolve and conviction; something like continuation, of growing in spite of. To end on a note that is anything but final, anything but an end.
You remind me I’m a final girl; the last one to confront the killer & live. I have always crawled home with split lips & skin. I have bled more than this.