Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Thirty-six Winter 2014 |
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Manifesto Denise Duhamel and Maureen Seaton A girl in the band is worth two in the mosh pit. A girl in the hand is a bull in a crop top. You can lead all heresy to war, but you can’t make it clean a kitchen sink. Opposites attack analogies (period or comma) so girls who run with wolves, girls with curls, and hood girls all make passes at girls in glasses, girls whose asses are sassy and girls who sway like the tops of palms. Build them, they will come. If they build themselves, they will come and come. Pose is a pose is a pose is a pose. Rhyme doesn’t pay. All work and no play makes a dull backlash, jackass, wise women say. Who, they, they, who? Those wiseass women who play the way prose plays, screens play, poems play it again, Sam-I-Am. Who doesn’t like eggs? Tear gas is always greener on the other bride. Don’t freeze all your eggs in one casket. Life is like a glass of sherry. Only the good foo young and the mold never dies. (I can’t feel my manifesto!) Girls keep coming back to haunt my archipelago. Every girl has a silver g-string. A blonde in the rough. All is fair, Catherine Deneuve, Dinah Shore. Follow that Cabbage Patch doll! Jump back, little Sheba, talk smack and take it on the lam, Mary Mack. Twitter until your heart tweets a beat. The world’s your toy store— its modus operandi robbing geezers for candy. All the girl’s a stage, and the legs merely players of wit and trances, kicks and stances, we will not, I repeat, give in to your Dakota Fanning. The next time you see yourself give your elf a shrug. A chambermaid is only as strong as her punch (mixed drink.) There’s no place like Rome. There’s no place like Rome, New York. There’s no place like Cork. To screw or not to screw: that’s the way, uh huh uh huh, we girlscouts like to sell our Thin Mints, our Do-si-dos. Thank U Berry Munch. Better the Devil Dog you know than the Little Debbie you don’t. Don’t bite off more than your ACLU. The banned book feeds you. The poem eats words. The girl was barely there all along. Next Poem |
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