pungent perfume and musty sequins only frame that stale cigarette smell singeing feathers soft and curling towards the plume’s stiff spine persona personified in glue burning fake eyelashes flutter (soft-bulb lights up, shutters drawn) night burns like glitter up the nose and her veins are on fire again.
hothouse red hair coils round that never still brow arched or smeared down pancaked skin diva today, dapper tomorrow (they beat you up in the alley way but scream for you on stage-- safest to hide in plain sight, they say) so laugh off slights, line your rented smile in deep ironic wine, and work that broken hooker-heel- foot-crammed-shin-splint- wear-it-as-a-second-skin-pain. they’ll come back for the obvious lies. a rip and a tear in the old social fabric: demand nothing,
question everything.
For the Boys Who Flirt with me Shamelessly
How do you know I’m not susceptible?
Oh, don’t doubt your instincts.
Anonymous, I ebb and flow past permanency.
My fire heart cinders sentiment. I crawl on ice for that instant’s hunger. Devour the alchemy that transmutes a passing lusty gust on to other endeavors.
And I could quite possibly bend each band in your iris with the crux of my elbow half curled.
But every now and then, occasion sends me the curiosity to be mistaken for the fragile one-- this one could break, the girl who strings endearments like beads around her throat to keep, the one who longs to turn over in the night and sear herself into another's eyes,
a wound that could be cauterized as the sun illuminates the edges of shades just tight enough to weld the space darkness keeps secret.
That this muse might suddenly moor, as even the farthest star seeks a fastening into the vast deep, visible and lasting.
Lest you mistake this quandary for confession, remember-- you don’t have to really want something to wonder,
aren’t I your proof of that?
Bio: Jennifer Bradpiece was born and raised in the multifaceted muse, Los Angeles, where she still resides. She has her Bachelors in Creative Writing from Antioch University. When not rescuing Pit Bulls, she tries to remain active in the Los Angeles writing and art scene: she has interned at Beyond Baroque, and often collaborates with multi-media artists on projects. Her poetry has been published in various journals, anthologies, and online zines, including 491 Magazine, The Mas Tequila Review, and Redactions. She has poetry forthcoming in Rip Rap Journal and The Whiskey Fish Review among others.