Nina and Frida Enter the Chat

By FELICE BELLE

these biddies with their deadbolt backs/ take naps
while i construct/ canvas from corset cast

art does not wait until you are well

what they did not understand—the training was classical

chopin, motherfuckers/ carry on like she some backwater bluesy
least common denominator/ reduced me

addiction is not a hobby

no one will hear what i see/ unless they inhabit my body
surgeons don’t count/ the wrong lover, maybe

muse is reality

want more than you’re given/ be difficult as necessary

loving a man/ who belongs to the world/ is like lying in lava
no one asks if he can/ have it all

let him knock you down/ throw you up
against the wall/ put a frame on it

i don’t want the preacher/ i want the pulpit

 

Felice Belle is a poet and playwright. Her debut collection, Viscera, is forthcoming from Etruscan Press. She is a lecturer in the low-residency MFA program at St. Francis College in Brooklyn and chief storyteller for the global nonprofit Narrative 4.

[Purchase Issue 25 here.]

Nina and Frida Enter the Chat

Related Posts

Caroline M. Mar Headshot

Waters of Reclamation: Raychelle Heath Interviews Caroline M. Mar

CAROLINE M. MAR
That's a reconciliation that I'm often grappling with, which is about positionality. What am I responsible for? What's coming up for me; who am I in all of this? How can I be my authentic self and also how do I maybe take some responsibility?

October 2024 Poetry Feature: New Poems By Our Contributors

NATHANIEL PERRY
Words can contain their opposite, / pleasure at once a freedom and a ploy— / a garden something bound and original / where anything, but certain things, should thrive; / the difference between loving-kindness and loving / like the vowel shift from olive to alive.

Image of laundry hanging on a line.

Real Estate for the Blended Family (or What I Learned from Zillow)

ELIZABETH HAZEN
Sometimes I dream of gardens— // that same dirt they kick from their cleats could feed us, / grow something to sustain us. But it’s winter. // The ground is cold, and I dare not leave this room; / I want to want to fix this—to love them // after all—but in here I am safe.