4 poems, by aleathia drehmer

A Saint With No Name

He slid into me
on the bathroom floor
both of us wet
and dripping
the shower
still running
making its music
on the tub

in between
my muffled gasps

in between
his teeth embedded
in my shoulder

in between
the sounds of friction
across the linoleum

in between
the fuck yeah’s
and oh my god’s

in between
my legs, his cock
a saint with no name

and time standing
still; everything a matrix
with no answers.


When I Was New

When I was new
he fucked me
like I was his last
breath
called me his whore
teeth bared and grinding
his eyes in some
faraway place.

When I was new
he’d bury his face
in me, hungry
and insatiable

there wasn’t nothing
better than the taste
of me lingerin’
in his mouth
when i was new


1 am Under the Big Dipper

I realize that all
my nights are broken
scenes from various
David Lynch films.

Cryptic silences
and thick pauses
strained only
by the sound
of my voice
whispering

He
doesn’t
love
you
any
more.


The Violence Inside

He is stuck
on a letter
dangling
in air
like a
participle.

D-d-d-d-d
Dammit! I yell inside
God fucking dammit!
Spit it out!

And I want to
hold his tongue
with pliers
to straighten
his fear
and kill
his stutter

and then
I kiss his mouth
until the murder
in me was gone.

 

Aleathia Drehmer was once the editor of Durable Goods and In Between Altered States, co-editor of Full of Crow and Zygote in My Coffee, and art editor of Regardless of Authority. She has recently published poems in M58 Poetry and Eunoia Review with upcoming work in Poetica Review. www.aleathiadrehmer.com

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