from the bathroom at the union transfer
this poem is for the girls who dance at punk shows.
with pink hair and brunette roots, with dark lipstick
on their teeth.
this poem is for the carousel ring metallic smell
on my hands left from a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon,
blood smell, dirty city smell. this poem is for the
honeycomb bathroom tile, moving like acid trip nightmare.
this poem is for the drunk girls waiting in line to use the toilet.
for the girls who are beautiful because they are
not beautiful, but have accepted that.
I see you sway like candle flame, like
tree branch in heavy wind and that’s beauty,
that’s petals falling like snow
that I’m trying to catch on my tongue.
bitter chardonnay like drinking
hydrogen peroxide, it’s just after sunset
when the sky’s 10 mg Ritalin blue,
blue as my father’s old jeans, and
white of threadbare, white of cobweb
and my soul’s blue as a robin’s egg
knocked from the nest.
I ask if you want to join me outside
and you tell me you’re just going to
keep watching your Yankees game.
I’m Yankee stripe blue, Parliament cigarette
insignia blue. frostbitten toe blue,
but I still go barefoot.
I’d imagine spring’s frostbite
feels like a kiss after a shared milkshake—
stomachache cream and ice.
the moon waxes. I wane.
These poems originally appeared in Spider Mirror
Rebecca Kokitus is a poet residing in the Philadelphia area. She has had poetry and prose published in almost fifty journals and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2018. She is currently a student at West Chester University of Pennsylvania, where she studies English with a concentration in Writing. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram at @rxbxcca_anna, and you can read more of her writing on her website: https://rebeccakokitus.wixsite.com/rebeccakokitus.