Maureen O'Leary
Blue sage
crackling dry woodsmoke barbeque
Promising lie of
autumn coming
Promising slant
September light
When the promises
of blue nail polish, thrift store pants,
Bald spots, a
yellow tooth crooked smile,
Soft belly, wide
hips, everything failing to deliver.
I have solidity,
fidelity, a soft place to fall, strong arms to hold you
None of this is as
difficult as it used to be
Black coffee,
sharp pencils
A secret life behind
the scenes
A true heart, a
loyal wife, a stack of towels clean
There is wildness
still
I forgot to get
high
I forgot to fight
I
Forgot to hate you
I forgot to
Follow the band I
forgot to put a
Spell on you and
enter your dreams and I forgot to light the cigarette
In the first place
The train whistles
in the distance
In middle of the
night
And I’m thinking
of nomadic witch queens
In tents flapping
in the windy dark and I’m
Thinking of woodsmoke
and I’m thinking of
The give of meat
between by teeth
Maureen O'Leary lives in California. Her most recent and
upcoming work appears in Coffin Bell Journal, The Horror Zine, Ariadne
Magazine, Bandit Fiction, Live Nude Poems, Archive of the Odd Issue #1, Hush
Lit, Passengers Journal, Penumbric Speculative Fiction, Esopus Reader, Black
Spot Books' anthology Under Her Skin, and Sycamore Review. She is a graduate of
Ashland MFA.
