SPOTLIGHT: Fairy Blood by Olivia Loccisano


let’s play a card game
52 pick up
of limbs and bones
that lay scattered on the floor
sew them onto my flesh
before they rot
attach my larynx
to my trachea
so I may begin
to sing my lullaby

indifferent housewife
each night she kneels among the flowers
her skin flays as she howls to the moon
laying eggs filled with contempt
her fangs seep into stone,
until the morn
when she stands at the stove
waiting for what the night
will thaw in her next

Icicle Girl

she never forgot the hunger
of the icicles drooping down
from the back of her father’s truck
she licked them, filled with dirty water
the sweet smell of sulfur and gasoline
sucking the cold ice,
her tongue bled by the prick of the spike
and gravel against her tongue
ever since then, she would play in the cold
delving packing snow into her mouth,
impaling herself with icicles
her inner walls pierced and frozen
penetrating her teeth into tightly formed snowballs,
sounding like cotton as she bit into them
but when summer came,
the girl’s skin became pale and cold,
her body shook and she was weak
she found a solution in her freezer,
melting ice cubes dribbled down her chin
the coolness on her nipples and body,
this would suffice
until next winter
when her lust would come alive


As I mount your bones I wonder
why rigor mortis has not set in
why no passion emits from your frozen corpse
I have watched you bleed one thousand times
You talk too much when you’re alive
I prefer you like my potato salad
stiff, cold, exuding thick whiteness
rotting at the back of my fridge
wondering again if it’s genetic
to feel this way about your hardened form
or maybe it is because you cannot speak
perhaps I never felt your warmth to begin with

angel at noon

she is an angel
at noon.
her eyelashes: needles scraping the sky.
one leg: a ladder greeting heaven
the other: a flag waving to hell.
her ten moon eyes
cast not one judgement.
instead, discernment
falls upon her
like a dump truck
unloading gravel,
until she is buried.
some say that you can see her
if you really try
to find the tip of a needle
poking out from
beneath the sand.


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