i wished to be a poet

i wished to be a poet           stupid girl
freshman year living off the dysthymia
collected in pools of pencil shavings
and passing C’s on scantron paper.

i didn’t know then       didn’t know
that the idle nicks carved
carefully into an angsty canvas
were a dangerous art form
that someday               30 years old
i’d be warding off old ghosts
and pushpins from wanting to
unstich my freckled skin.

it undoes me

i might get famous off added
alliteration afterwards allied
to the alienation that these
words will cost me my life
but i prayed                innocent once
a stupid girl

i prayed to be a poet.

Copyright © Audrey Rosengreen, 2018

Sun Sirens

pink lips           dry cheeks
sitting on a neck strained
out      lessens the double chin
and the

the first time i wanted it
it came          like the rushing waves
wrinkled out on the dim horizon
or the shaking thighs of a
cunt stretched thin by careless
calloused, fingers          either way
my feet were soaked
and my body wanted to sink
like an ugly, stone, fantasy.

the second time          still stings
against my belly         on my wrists
the blood dried along the keyboard
while some boy i loved told me
i fucked like shit
but loved luxuriously.

i look down to stop the sun
singing soft and sweet of the
cool water that once filled my insides.
against the dry heat         its sirens beg me.


Bald Spot

blank stares          cautious
chewing up one side
of my head            wonder
tastes like confusion
confusion reads like

“everyone’s gonna know
you eat pussy”

i laugh like them         stupidity
wrinkles time like it does
their suburban faces
notched out like an
old walking stick. every
cut a new fag add to the

“i have gay friends too’.

some days i want to shave
my head clean.

Copyright © Audrey Rosengreen, 2017-2018