There Is Wildness Still

Maureen O'Leary




Blue sage crackling dry woodsmoke barbeque
Promising lie of autumn coming
Promising slant September light 

When the promises of blue nail polish, thrift store pants,
Bald spots, a yellow tooth crooked smile,
Soft belly, wide hips, everything failing to deliver. 

I have solidity, fidelity, a soft place to fall, strong arms to hold you
None of this is as difficult as it used to be
Black coffee, sharp pencils
A secret life behind the scenes
A true heart, a loyal wife, a stack of towels clean 

There is wildness still
I forgot to get high
I forgot to fight I
Forgot to hate you I forgot to
Follow the band I forgot to put a
Spell on you and enter your dreams and I forgot to light the cigarette
In the first place 

The train whistles in the distance
In middle of the night
And I’m thinking of nomadic witch queens
In tents flapping in the windy dark and I’m
Thinking of woodsmoke and I’m thinking of
The give of meat between by teeth





Maureen O'Leary lives in California. Her most recent and upcoming work appears in Coffin Bell Journal, The Horror Zine, Ariadne Magazine, Bandit Fiction, Live Nude Poems, Archive of the Odd Issue #1, Hush Lit, Passengers Journal, Penumbric Speculative Fiction, Esopus Reader, Black Spot Books' anthology Under Her Skin, and Sycamore Review. She is a graduate of Ashland MFA.

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