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  August 2007
volume 5 number 2
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  featured poets
  Jennifer Bradpiece
  Anthony Liccione
  Mindy Nettifee
  Matina Stamatakis
  David Thornbrugh
  mailing list
Jennifer Bradpiece August 2007



art by alfie ebojo aka alfie numeric

    "I was born and raised in the multifaceted muse, Los Angeles, where I still reside. When not rescuing Pit Bulls, I try to remain active in the Los Angeles writing and art scene: I've interned at Beyond Baroque, and often collaborate with multi-media artists on projects. My poetry has been published in various journals, anthologies, and online zines, including poeticdiversity, Mad Poets Review, 491 Magazine, The Mas Tequila Review, & The Nervous Breakdown. I have poetry forthcoming in Pearl, Redactions, and The Common Ground Review.



One Night Stand

The students in the class do not identify as writers.
They think, perhaps, a Latin American Literature course
might be easy credit.
The last night of class, he dismisses the disillusioned faces early
and reads to me his new poems for his new book.
The light from his laptop is better than porn.
I leer at his naked words as we huddle over the small screen,
our knees almost touching,
The scent of his body, like new lacquer on fine wood.
The texture of his auburn skin like wall paper in a room I've never noticed before.
He shows me a part of his poem that reminds him of a poem of my own:
An instant's intercourse in a bed of language.
The satin sheet of his phrase sliding over my own.
I become aware of many things:
his breath tickling my neck
velvet in his voice
blood pumping through veins in my thighs
my pinky nail digging hard into the palm of my hand
my toes curling stiffly inside my black boots
the various directions the dark hairs grow from his scalp
the likely impatience of the man in a car outside who is waiting to pick me up
the clock's hands ticking away the extra minutes
the wife who waits in bed for the man reading his poems to me…
That, though we might shake hands at a reading one day,
we will never be this close again.

copyright 2006 Jennifer Bradpiece



Rearranging the Night

Unwelcome yellow light illuminates
crumpled dirty denim jeans
black lace bra, 36 C-cupping the air.
Somehow my heeled boots have claimed
ownership to your coiled socks.
Your corduroys entwine my halter top
echoing your honey my ivory limbs.
Darkness practices addition.

Through open lids of window sill and
subtly raised blind
beams filter, harass eyelids to flutter.
The crescent curve of our hips
resists the sun's circle outside.

The alarm clock rearranges
the silence, our dreams, our bodies.
Sunlight subtracts.

Your chest hairs tickle my back
as the singular cell of our warmth divides.

copyright 2005 Jennifer Bradpiece