Archives for posts with tag: arielle

Not night or day,
therefore both.
A sun, drycaked against warm lithe tar
tasting my brine throat
fossil crushed bottles on my palms
if the water had never tasted rock
and if stony lungs
flux an old well
with sea glass so small
you may never cough
without a sharp twinkling dust
stinging of brine,
tasting of iron.

-Arielle Martinez


the sound of slapping palms
black water, frothy spit
and fish eyes not on a fish.

-Arielle Martinez

Twice you have graced my dreams
in seven days.
On dog carpet, a wine soaked tongue —

“ Someone ”

Second, I gorged my heart
and chased a knife to my crotch

“ No. ”

Three moons linger
yellow on the wall.

One moon’s craters

the nose and mouth of your daughter.

One moon is caught
in the swollen hands and hair of your wife.

One moon preserves
your bald head

a stark crown.

-Arielle Martinez

walls raw blue
Do Not Touch Me
glued to the stereo

18 month old issues
of Psychology Today

doors grope loose jeans
for crisp checks and snatch
at clingy parts of sweaters

halfhearted girls with
rabbit teeth and
voices like metal slides

Weren’t we in
Haven’t I seen
gathering brittle bone hair

with piano fingers
a thin elastic slap
the hung head of a pin

I bite my lip to keep it in.
You’re looking great
my nails peel to the wrist

-Arielle Martinez