Monday 5 May 2014

3 Poems by Pattie Flint

I Want to See your Rampart Smiles

I pirated Julia Roberts smile for
years ever since her legs in Pretty
Woman, but they call me cheshire.
people go, stare at me like: shit.
what’s she pretending to be happy
about when she’s so so sad?
I look at them with horned eyes
and piqued mouth and say;
don’t worry boys; I got this. You
see these scars I turned into tiger
stripes the way an American
Spirit turned Dean Martin into
an idea bigger than life itself
I created an amnion out of this
set of teeth; can you see it in
the way I let my lips grow wide
like a California fault line I’m
shaking. I’m in your older sister’s
drawer with two pink lines on my
forehead but hey I lived through
it see the way I chipped my hip
so that when they find my bones
one day they will identify me as
a mother of one. and even though
I held him for less time than it took
Apollo 13 to crash back onto earth
I am mother; I birthed honesty
out of cheap beer and stained boat
cushions on August nights so
that I can smile as bright as
matinee performances let out early
and you will feel the love I still
have in me; I’m not done yet. I may
be sad sometimes but hey it rains
a lot in Seattle and I’m used to
going without umbrellas. I ain’t
pretending; no. I knew love, enough.

On Listening to Explosions in the Sky and Pretending You are With Me

the only moment
were alone paper
baby                I
dulcet melodies
     so  set         you      on
sapphire              to
your heroes the
            love you paper
baby love you                and
a scintilla         soft         cover
pulling      eyes       fingertips
I                       love  you
when                           i


The One they Call Courage

I want to give you the chance
to be the person you wanted
to be when I first met you but
time is slipping by and you’re lost
in the froth of responsibility and
I’m no longer brave enough to
explore your world. Redesign
me in your mind not as the girl
who fell asleep on your couch for
two hours but as the girl who asked
you the questions you never
wanted to be honest about. You
were tall and thin and I wanted to
feed you I have an irrational fear of
people being hungry in my presence
but what can I do my mother always
told me I was too fat and so I try
to give other people love in the way
they tell me I’m a good cook I have a
wonder woman apron. Don’t look
at me across the aisle and tell me you
missed me when I’m a call away.
Be as brave as I need you to be so
that I can pretend to be confident.


Pattie Flint is an uprooted Seattle native toughing it out in New England and spends her days as an editor at Medusa's Laugh Press specializing in hand-bound books. She has been published in InkSpeak, HESA Inprint, Hippocampus and TAB, amongst others. She is currently working on her second young adult novel.

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