POETRY - ISSUE FOUR
Good Girls
ALANA COSTELLO
|
donate my anxieties to science the sores, the measles, the cancer, the AIDs, the manic tooth loss dreams, the pealing Lysol hands, the pills and the other pills. who’s doping me? who’s seen me naked? When I sleep I have nightmares of being a K2 junkie on the steps of the big grey tower in outer space, smoking cigarettes with the boogeymen. madness is a neighborhood away all you have to do is miss the bus. |
The Dogs
Humidity makes the air
smell like dead fish.
They said they’d found
many bodies now
—bound and gagged
and shoved into burlap sacks.
Gilgo Beach residents
had seen and heard nothing,
docking their boats
and ignoring the reporters.
At six in the morning
he said goodnight
and freed me from his blue Camry.
It’s not how they said it would be.
I slept well
and woke up just fine.
August was euphoric.
I ate a slice of pizza
and went to the cinema.
It wasn’t until the low-tide,
in the bitter hours of the night
that I realized it--
my arms and legs bound together,
I climbed into my burlap sheets,
resting my stiff broken skull
between my bloodied legs
on the Highway bedside,
waiting for the dogs.
smell like dead fish.
They said they’d found
many bodies now
—bound and gagged
and shoved into burlap sacks.
Gilgo Beach residents
had seen and heard nothing,
docking their boats
and ignoring the reporters.
At six in the morning
he said goodnight
and freed me from his blue Camry.
It’s not how they said it would be.
I slept well
and woke up just fine.
August was euphoric.
I ate a slice of pizza
and went to the cinema.
It wasn’t until the low-tide,
in the bitter hours of the night
that I realized it--
my arms and legs bound together,
I climbed into my burlap sheets,
resting my stiff broken skull
between my bloodied legs
on the Highway bedside,
waiting for the dogs.
Previously published in Five 2 One Magazine, Alana Costello studies Creative Writing at SUNY Purchase College.
NEXT
FICTION
|
RELATED
POETRY
|
POETRY
|
POETRY
|
TABLE OF CONTENTS
