born in the artic snow
she chromed
her heart
in steel

flames could
not
touch that heart

always a half a step ahead
sure
a few stumbles
but never a fall

and moonlight is just
a heartache in disquise

till one day
leaning out a car window
a scar upon his cheek
and the luck of the draw

was the jack of hearts

and the queen of diamonds
had
never met
anyone
quite like

the jack

of hearts,

black-haired blue-eyed
her beauty inspired
stupid men
to commit foolish acts

and as he smiled
the queen of diamonds
thought she had

the jack of hearts,

blue sky shimmering
in her eyes

jack became
the brightness
of her day

and the jack of hearts
saw a flame
flickering in her eyes
that he had never seen
in any women's eyes
before ...
                
               act. 2

... a strange destiny
was unraveling
and one long poker hand
was over
and the snowflakes came
down like ashes
under the street light

and then
the jack of hearts
walked away

a pale spirit fleeing
a graveyard
into the wall of night

and the queen of diamonds
cried

the sea into sky

with eyes
like twilight
waiting

to eat away the day

she’s not in broken pieces.
she’s whole.
like she’s never had to tape herself back together just to get through a day.
her stomach is flat,
but all that’s flat about me
is my humor.
when i try to be enough,
and still fall short.

she’s hilarious.
she knows what to say, always.
how to make people laugh,
how to make him feel heard,
how to end a fight
with a kiss or a joke.
me?
i freeze.
i shut down.
i say the wrong thing,
or nothing at all.

she can argue with him
and still make him feel loved.
i argue and feel like
i’ve already lost.
she knows how to be fire and warmth.
i’m just scared of being
too much heat,
or not enough.

she can fill his bed
like it’s made for her.
like she belongs there.
i flinch at the thought,
afraid my body isn’t
something that could hold comfort.
she fits into all the places
i don’t.

he rests his head on her shoulder,
like it’s the only place peace lives.
with me,
he only watches from a distance,
like i’m something delicate he can break,
or something heavy
he’s too tired to carry.
i am.

she is everything i’m not.
she is confidence,
and comfort,
and beauty,
and laughter.
she is ease.
and i?
i’m just a pause between heartbeats.
i’m just trying to be worth
the space i take up.
she is everything.
and i…
i don’t know what i am.

If I can't unlove you
                Surely I can write myself
                                                  Out of love

I always dreamed
Of dying in a special way.
People worried,
Mother guilty for what she did,
The awkward school assembly about a dead student.
Someone trying to stop me from ending it all.

Yet now i sit in my room,
Reading the texts from earlier,
The pretty lies, saying it's "just a break".
A break i won't come back from.

the bugs crawl under my skin
as my mind fades into darkness
my heart stills, cold in my chest
stiff hands gripped by loved ones
blank glazed over eyes
rotting flesh falling off my bones

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

        Garish On-Your-Face In-Your-Face Makeup at Twenty Paces

There are several forms of government:

Monarchy
Kakistocracy
Oligarchy
Autocracy
Democracy
­Anarchy

But Mr. Trump and Mr. Musk have given us
A new form of government via online spat
We’re ruled by cheerleader moms who shriek and cuss
So what is the scholarly Greek word for that?

I’m new to ‘self-directed study,’ it’s a construction I’ve never known. It’s kind of a faustian bargain that resembles another self-paced activity—treading water. The program’s like an immersive plunge in deep, choppy, informational seas.

On the other hand, instead of dark, crowded auditorium classes, we’ve been studying, on sunny mornings, out by the pool, where there’s a summer-camp-like vibe.

When I say 'we', I mean Chella and I, we’re a two-girl study group. I’ve only known her for 13 days but we have a lot in recent-common. She was in my Yale graduation class (last month) but our paths never really crossed at Yale.

She’s a tall, lithesome, black girl from Miami Florida. Not the sandy beach Miami, where palm trees sway, bikini clad models strut and flamingo-pink art-deco bars face the ocean. No, she’s from the Liberty City ghetto—and she has stories.

She say’s that getting her Yale acceptance was a sea change. People were incredulous, as if aliens had landed or everyone in her high school had won the lottery, There’s a sad but steely resignation in her voice when she says she’s never going back there, "Evah."

So, it’s 86°f here in Boston, MA, and we’re out studying by the pool. There isn’t a cloud or bird in the sky and the sun looks—well, honestly, we’re not looking at the sun—we’re college graduates—we’re in the shade. I was afraid the pool would be summer-time crowded but we’ve been the only one’s here all week. We plunge into the pool and then read.

As Blue Coupe by Twin Peaks finished playing on my Bose Soundbar, Chella professed, “I literally LOVE that song.”
“I’ve loved that song since 8th grade,” I agreed.
“I don’t think my musical taste will ever be better than it was in 8th grade.” Chella confided.
“8th grade’s when everyone’s up on trends,” I said, thinking back.

We read for a while. The only thing tainting our near resort-core experience, is the flood of material we must cover.

“I want to be jolly,”  I declared to the universe,“I’m holding that today.”
“You keep yourself so grounded,” Chella said, “like you refuse to delight in anything!”
“That’s not true!” I gasped.
“Yes, it is!,“ she updogged, if anything goes wrong, you’re just done.”
“NOoo!” I laughed. “Ok, two things, if two things go wrong,” she amended.
“That’s fair.” I admitted, “I’m a two chance girl.”  
“That’s fair,” she agreed, then she added, “I’m going to switch the vibe up.”
‘SIREN by Shygirl’ began banging as we went back to our reading.
‘Self directed study’ has it’s advantages.
.
.
Songs for this:
Count Contessa by Azealia Banks & Lone
Blue Coupe by Twin Peaks
SIREN by Shygirl