beloved
yes, let’s put it this way for nostalgia.
i would always answer right away
if i thought—write away
meant anything could find you
receptive not just receiving
like a criminal enjoys a prison stint
—if matter were material
and could be tongued like a scream,
kissed like a fist,
bitten through
as a bottom lip in the fall,
or
snapped between teeth
as bacon is shattered meat.
but it doesn’t matter, doesn’t add up
—weighs negative something.
why give credence to myth by prayer
or declare to the dead i am living?
i can’t stand a ghost story
—never got the point of haunting halls
over the care less of frightened fools.
stephanie roberts has work featured or forthcoming, in numerous journals, this year, including Arcturus, Atlanta Review, The Maine Review, and The Stockholm Review of Literature. She was a recent finalist in the Eyewear Publishing Fortnight Prize, and her chapbook was selected as a finalist in the Anomalous Press Open Reading. She counts among her strengths passionate curiosity and good humor. Join the circus @ringtales on Twitter, Medium, and Instagram.