LeeAnn Olivier (University of Texas, US)
Heart-shaped bruise turns blue,
then black. May’s pearl-grey, matte lips
rubbed raw, dour as moths.
She preens in smudged glass,
spits a warm mouth full of blood
and gin at her twin
June. “I look like June
this day,” May thinks, her bright eyes
fall like drugged fire flies.
Earl flings wide the split
screen door with a shit-caked boot,
spies May’s crane stance, chalked
thighs. He snarls, sniffs, and
paws the air like a coon hound,
smells oiled wood, saw dust,
but fails to note Pop’s
cocked shot gun propped by the lime-
stained sink stand. Earl snakes
a gnarled hand through May’s
thick, dark curls, tugs hard, draws her
to his ribs. She whips
round, fey cheek bones bloom
wild rose red. Earl’s last thought: this
day she looks like June.
LeeAnn Olivier is a Ph.D. student in Aesthetic Studies at the University of Texas at Dallas and an English instructor at Tarrant County College. Her poetry has been published in Illya’s Honey and will soon appear in Jelly Bucket. Her creative dissertation explores fairy tales, dark magic, and a Louisiana childhood.