Life, Poetry, Writing

Netflix & Chill

After midnight Doubt seeps in though the gaps around my air conditioner

and comes to join me on the couch

Bathed in the mummifying haze of blue electric static

He wraps an arm around my shoulder

tips my head back

and kisses me full of fear.

 

— Janine Serioux

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Life, Love, Poetry, Writing

Motherfucker

Why must you be a child all the time?

With those dark, knowing eyes

and just-five-more-minutes-please smile.

Can’t you see that I’m tired?

I don’t have the time to play with you.

Maybe Tanya and Tina let you get away with it

but I’m not one of your little friends.

Yet you still try to sneak your way into my bed

When will you outgrow this phase?

Creeping fingers caught in the cookie jar and all my

spilled milk.

‘Mama, how much longer you gonna make me wait?’

You know I hate it when you call me mama.

I don’t have the time to nurse you, burp you, or change you.

 

— Janine Serioux

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Life, Love, Poetry, Writing

Wrath

When he was wrong
(which was more often than not)
He turned my lap into an alter,
Tonguing out his prayers of gratitude
For my mercy and grace.
He thanked me for my constancy;
That I did not forsake him,
Though he was undeserving
And for forgiving his sins,
While knowing he would sin again.
I heard his prayers
With the serenity of the ocean
And stroking his head,
Answered in the one language he could not understand
(Love)
“Vengeance
is mine.”

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Life, Love, Poetry, Writing

Satiate

There was a time when I split my veins for you and asked “what else do you want?”

Blood wasn’t enough;

Nerves, muscles too.

I stifled my screams and carved a smile from my horrors

And gave

And faded

And still you hungered.

Cracked my bones with you sharp teeth,

Honed on my martyrdom.

You grew fat from the marrow.

What else can you take, now that you have consumed all that is carnal

And I am a deathless soul?

– Janine Serioux

 

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