Author: Jessica Housand-Weaver

the guise he paraded was pretty
a college boy, blonde, with Grecian

pecs, the wolfish pelt just
barely peeping from the collar

of his soft Gucci sweater
and chaste designer jeans

but he skulked between the school
and the Putt Putt like a dog

hunting things in the gloom—
the wounded pixie with her

frayed cuffs, dragging dreams
that drooling snout goaded

by the perfume of young blood
between unabridged thighs

 

 

Contributor’s Notes: Jessica Housand-Weaver is a nationally published creative writer in fiction and poetry as well as an MFA graduate student at The University of Arkansas at Monticello. She graduated from the University of New Mexico with a BA in Anthropology and was nominated for the Jack Kent Cooke Graduate Arts Award. She is also co-editor of UAM’’s new magazine, Gravel: A Literary Journal. Her publication and award credits include or are upcoming in: Stone Soup MagazinePoetic Voices MagazineThe Dark Fiction SpotlightMused-The BellaOnline Literary ReviewMocha Memoirs PressMalpais ReviewPoetry PacificThe New Poet, and Crack the Spine, among others.

The sky does not begin above the high desert
but everywhere, germinating from mobs of blonde
wild-eyed Indian ricegrass and cliques of stout
perfumed juniper, flinging open its great, endless
hide on the horizon like some winged, cobalt colossus
bowed in prayer over a ruddy ceramic wasteland
at the toes of anemic Sangre de Cristo Mountains
where the blood of Christ drains forever onto broken mesas
amid flushed basins spiked with desert marigold;

I wedded you 7,000 feet above sea level, in revolutions
of clouds, a hundred jet tails crashing onto our heads;
you said Jesus was applauding from his creosote throne
but I witnessed the old Kachina gods turning, their faces
strained with cataclysms instead of smiles, the wind taunting
in the heath, while the melot-stained clay cracked beneath
our zealous feet, that gaping blue leviathan reaching forever
between us, empty-handed

for rain.

 

 

Contributor’s Notes: Jessica Housand-Weaver is a nationally published creative writer in fiction and poetry as well as an MFA graduate student at The University of Arkansas at Monticello. She graduated from the University of New Mexico with a BA in Anthropology and was nominated for the Jack Kent Cooke Graduate Arts Award. She is also co-editor of UAM’’s new magazine, Gravel: A Literary Journal. Her publication and award credits include or are upcoming in: Stone Soup MagazinePoetic Voices MagazineThe Dark Fiction SpotlightMused-The BellaOnline Literary ReviewMocha Memoirs PressMalpais ReviewPoetry PacificThe New Poet, and Crack the Spine, among others.

 

the graveyard is still,

disconsolate silences

between mute rows;

 

I scout the tombstones

for hostile phantasms

and anatomies in the stars;

 

blasé Orion looks bored,

forever hung in that

defiant poise,

 

with your retroussé nose

snubbing our vows

the same way that you did;

 

once I held my breath

as you gelded me

with Delphic words;

 

now, cheek against rimy stone,

vivisecting your language

with tweezers and Greek fire,

 

I bruise the flowerslike your pharynx

in my fist;

 

–what was it you said?

 

 

Contributor’s Notes: Jessica Housand-Weaver is a nationally published creative writer in fiction and poetry as well as an MFA graduate student at The University of Arkansas at Monticello. She graduated from the University of New Mexico with a BA in Anthropology and was nominated for the Jack Kent Cooke Graduate Arts Award. She is also co-editor of UAM’’s new magazine, Gravel: A Literary Journal. Her publication and award credits include or are upcoming in: Stone Soup MagazinePoetic Voices MagazineThe Dark Fiction SpotlightMused-The BellaOnline Literary ReviewMocha Memoirs PressMalpais ReviewPoetry PacificThe New Poet, and Crack the Spine, among others.