3 Poems by L scully

Under Cover of Lightness

When I have tummy time on a blanket

I think about the gunman with my girl.

Pinned to the ground and released for breast’s sake,

my love laid in a mauled hoodie face down.

Would you believe I’m quiet in real life?

It’s the time of day I know the sharks feed.

Above my blanket flies a wonky V

of geese. I miss the hashtag Mornings Like

These. Shabby-chic optimism in post-post

Nine Eleven America. People revealing the color

of their teacups. Know violence is as violence does.

I stretch my brain stem looking at flag poles.

Like you, my left eye is my better half.

Seen Enough

I know where to find Isadora’s head.

It grows as simulacrum amidst fruit

heaving from the baobab tree. Pro-ject

your voice and she might hear you. Transforming

my body to become her body, CRIME

is the cry of incompetence. Forget

you are dead. Humor me. Cum on my face.

You’re funny NO you’re funny! Gift me blank

signet rings. My bachelorette party

would be inpatient. Inflatable

history as party favor. Dory

was off to love, and I am off of love.

You can learn hieroglyphs or helplessness.

Shhhh…everything is everything.

The Best we can hope for

Even when life is beautiful I hate

it. Truth is I’m scared of magical days.

I crave shittiness like a big tough guy,

I drink juice for the sugar, not the cleanse.

I swim at the war memorial pool

and don’t ask which war. All the great artists

I looked up to had no money, real life

artists have money and they’re not that great.

I resent the cat for taking fat dumps.

Should’ve died in childhood and skipped all this.

Disciplined for complaining, I became

Poet. This is a persona poem

of someone worse than me. Real me is smart

and can whip out good words like Etruscan.

L Scully is a living writer.