Why Things Burn by Daphne Gottlieb
12:07 AM
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My fire-eating career came to an end
when I could no longer tell
when to spit and when

to swallow.
Last night in Amsterdam,
1,000 tulips burned to death.

I have an alibi. When I walked by
your garden, your hand
grenades were in bloom.

You caught me playing
loves me, loves me
not, metal pins between my teeth.

I forget the difference
between seduction
and arson,

ignition and cognition. I am a girl
with incendiary
vices and you have a filthy never

mind. If you say no, twice,
it's a four-letter word.
You are so dirty, people have planted

flowers on you: heliotropes. sun-
flowers. You'll take
anything. Loves me,

loves me not.
I want to bend you over
and whisper: "potting soil," "fresh

cut." When you made
the urgent fists of peonies
a proposition, I stole a pair of botanists'

hands. Green. Confident. All thumbs.
I look sharp in garden
shears and it rained spring

all night. 1,000 tulips
burned to death
in Amsterdam.

We didn't hear the sirens.
All night, you held my alibis
so softly, like taboos

already broken. 


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Шеќернолимонова
tea with sugar gives me the cramps


A Poem by Daphne Gottlieb
12:00 AM
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You told me you like my mouth. You want to kiss me.

My mouth is a wound and you
want to kiss me.

But you’re like
that: You want to go
leaping over cliffs–
you want to go
drinking poison
and then write pretty poems about it–
and all I want to do is
fuck you.

You want flowers and sonnets and us
to be together until the end of the world and I’d
just like a blow job, I’d just like
to be friends.
that’s what I’d really like.
Something warm and snuggly like a friendship.
and to fuck you.

The flowers are going to die and the cliffs are
going to erode and we might as well go fuck
since we’re going to anyway.
We’ll fuck and fight and eat and drink and smoke and fuck and smoke and fuck and
get married

And in six months from now
we’ll stop making the world stop
to fuck each other

and one year from now
I’ll get fat and you’ll go bald and
I’ll take prozac and you’ll take viagra
I’ll get obsessed with my biological clock
and my career
and you’ll get obsessed with your hairline
and your career

and two years from now
you’d rather watch reruns than fuck me
and I’d rather be drinking than fuck you
so we’ll drink in separate bars and one night
someone who likes my mouth will buy me a drink
that drink will be attached to a hand
there will be a human holding that drink
the kind with ears

and I will tell whoever it is
all about you
and how we used to forget to eat when we were in bed for three days
and your ears will be burning across town
where you are telling whoever it is how I don’t understand you

and two years from now, that girl with that drink
she will nod that yes that I am nodding at you tonight
that nod, that yes that means you’re not coming home
because just for a second the world has gone away
because just for a second there’s someone who understands you

and that night it will be her pretty mouth you want
and that night I will pass out at home, alone
with a bottle that reminds me of us
because it’ll be empty
because it’ll be gone
I will pass out waiting for you
to come
home
listening to country music–and I hate
country music–
but I’ll be feeling tragic
it’ll be the most romantic moment
I’ve ever had and
I’ll be alone

and you’ll be across town
with that girl who right now is in high school
and right now I just met you
and right now I think you should take me home and fuck me
because it only gets uglier from here
we only get uglier from here
so take me to the edge of that cliff you love
and pour me a shot of your silky poison
you can take this mouth
this wound you want
but you can’t kiss
and make it
better.


more writings by Daphne Gottlieb

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Шеќернолимонова
tea with sugar gives me the cramps


Ballad by Sonia Sanchez
1:11 AM
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       (after the spanish)


forgive me if i laugh 
you are so sure of love 
you are so young 
and i too old to learn of love.

the rain exploding 
in the air is love 
the grass excreting her 
green wax is love 
and stones remembering 
past steps is love, 
but you. you are too young 
for love 
and i too old.

once. what does it matter 
when or who, i knew 
of love. 
i fixed my body 
under his and went 
to sleep in love 
all trace of me 
was wiped away

forgive me if i smile 
young heiress of a naked dream 
you are so young 
and i too old to learn of love.

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Шеќернолимонова
tea with sugar gives me the cramps