“and even you forgot those brilliant flashes seen from afar” -Ruth Stone

Disclosure from Mars

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Don’t say last nerve.
Don’t say red

isn’t my color. Rust, butterscotch.
I’ll melt when it matters. Meaning yes

the way these syllables move
I won’t shut up about. Watch me

husband around you. All of it
runaway and random. Okay but

I don’t care when you take
my ideas because you’re getting

my old ideas. I’m nobody’s first love
but anybody’s last. I come on too strong.

The long years of burning up
with wanting to say only it. Hey.

You Like That

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Me being no one
it’s everything to know you.

You’d like it if I said that.
You’d think it were so great.

Me being no one
I think you’re such a dream

saying I’ll take one of everything,
calling me in from my own name.

All my favorite pop stars are singing
I want. Want you back

want your feeling 
I want some more. I don’t want

to climb into my only pair of high heels
looking like I own the place

but it’s a start. 
Not only love makes me bark.

Killer

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I never had a sexual
awakening—

only an emotional one

the mother to her child
at the estate sale:

then don’t touch
anything

you’re afraid of!

/

each poem says…follow
my finger…

then…made you
blink!

/

if it’s true
about the flute and knife

being distant cousins

if each poem is
my fingers

in your mouth

Appears in this issue
Rachelle Toarmino is the founding editor in chief of Peach Mag and the author of the poetry collection That Ex.

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