Fair’s Fair “For Book Lovers”

sephy

eleven is the age in fantasy

when the hero is whisked away

but when no one came for me

I wrote my own mythology.

I snuck the pomegranate into my room

swaddled in scarves under the bed

like a plundered treasure, waiting

for the right day, six sparrow calls

or a new moon. Then my bicycle

sailed up the steepest hills, away,

propelled by anticipation

the rush, at last, of the forbidden.

it and I hopped the fence of a fallow field,

knelt, trembling

and the first taste

like an Aztec sacrifice

deliberate and red

– Kenzie Robinson

april 30th

volatile girl, you covered me

dug in your nails, delighting

april showers you said, with a

thunderbolt smirk.

i threw back my shoulders

i beat my heart only for you

beat my chest, mastered myself

and locked up on my way out.

aphro

you blindfolded me and shoved me off the broken bridge

ice shearing below in the river

my back was also broken, aphro

but i smudged the lines enough

bee-stung my eyes, burned the ropes

throbbing like a taxi

thirty seething days.

bye aphro

it was fun

– Kenzie Robinson