Poetry and Fiction by Deanna Larsen

Ode To A Girl Who Looks Better Without Makeup But Doesn't Know It

She’s a Twinkie with the center sucked out;

looks sweet but hollow inside.

She’s a hard candy apple.

She can stop on a dime- dance on a dime-

swallow your heart on a dime.

She’s a speed-up-at-a-yellow-light kind of girl.

She makes Lady Gaga look blah.

She takes in stray dogs and stray bullets.

She reckons an icicle is the best murder weapon.

Her skin smells like pomegranate.

Her cleavage is quicksand.

Nobody knows her natural hair color.

Nobody knows her like I do.

Two Vignettes For Two Ex-Lovers

I. Tasha

Every mole and mismatched sock on your person a clue.

Most people are so secretive. You’re an open book, you write books, you’re desperate like a Book of the Month Club sending unsolicited titles.

Your anatomy                  drowns

in adornments.

Intentional like the dragon tattoo. Anyone who chances a glance at the small of your back will say oh she’s so worldly. Unless they read Chinese characters; they’ll see your Hepatitis sense of adventure and your linguistics are rusty.

Infected lip ring; I still kissed you.

Spider eyeliner, scars on your wrists running I-meant-it vertical, cracked tooth enamel. Your body a Shenandoah in Flames civil war battle. I think you fired the first shot.

II. David

Who knew signing a lease would be our Last Will and Testament.

Our living room was IKEA which is living for beginners; all our furniture named like Swedish porn stars: TROLLSTA, LÖVÅS. Couch converts to a bed. One night I folded up with the springs, hoped you wouldn’t find me but the cat ratted me out so we had to go at it again.

When you wore your favorite cap you looked like Castro. When Cuba’s on the news I always think of you. My little revolutionary.

Spitting teeth in the kitchen sink you swore you’d never touch the stuff again.

Your love charred through skin and bone and rewrote genetic code. You sent me spiraling back to Precambrian.

Thank god my ink revived me. Startled like an un-muzzled pit-bull. What a bitch. You should be grateful for pseudonyms.

Deanna Larsen holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Spanish, Latin American Studies and Creative Writing. She studied the tango in Argentina, but still can't dance. She lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota where even her friends make fun of her Minnesota accent. Her work is forthcoming in wtf pwm.

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