MARIE CONLAN KRIETER
& HEATHER SWEENEY
This is called the year nothing happened.
The ketamine hasn’t worked & I’ve licked the vintage ashtray clean.
As soap opera amnesia washes over me,
I bend over anyways, halfway lift to knees, to dinner, to car wash.
I pump out the zeros, the mannequin of monotony:
pls make me divine. I shake my clove at the lamp.
I take a selfie with the sun; it becomes my autobiography.
By noon I am carmalized to smut.
A wave of tomato rot on the windowsill
& quarters tucked into pink blankets.
With faraway gameshow static,
I bow to the door & leave.
in your dream I dressed
as peach pie with geraniums
with chameleons I played
wheel of fortune.
I plucked a tail
I sucked it dry
I woke the color of storm.
In a cellophane sky
In a sash of seed.
me & your black tea belly
shoulder, a blade of dirt
& rose quartz really
working my heart gameshow prize
luck & horseshoes
tattooed on eastside ankles
it was our consolation
for the day kept splitting
& we let it
it was enough it was
MARIE CONLAN KRIETER is a poet living and writing in Colorado, where she is a co-collaborator with the .OFF collective. She was named a finalist for the Noemi Press Book Award in 2017 and 2018, a finalist for the Airlie Press Prize in 2018, and a finalist for Metatron's 2018 Rising Authors Prize. Her first book is forthcoming from Half Mystic Press.
HEATHER SWEENEY lives in San Diego where she teaches writing and is the poetry editor for the literary journal Last Exit. Her chapbooks include Just Let Me Have This (Selcouth Station Press, 2018) and Same Bitch, Different Era: The Real Housewives Poems (above/ground press, 2019).