Home Planet News

a journal of literature & art

The Literary Review

Issue 10                    Page 36

If I were a beast

I want to gnaw your arms

into clean bones,

licking off the fresh meat

until I am satisfied

with the curious bloodletting;

the marrow is most

succulent

in hot, tropical places.

I’ll growl & warn the

inhabitants of the

rain forest of my prowess,

my undying hunger.

In this reality, I wait for Winter,

quiet, warmed-up rooms

& moments when the geniuses

come out of their hiding places,

& I savor their ideas, flooding

my brain, lighting up the filament

as I smell fresh & new juicy sentences.

If I ended up in California

If I ended up in California, 

marrying a guy I knew in Bethany College, 

I would drive millions of miles 

along the coast, visiting many wineries  

& baking my skin raw. The wildfires 

would drown us out—the beaches 

are not cleaned; they’re full of glass & plastics 

the waves have crashed over, & the mountains 

are not very far away. L.A. is still fake, 

full of would-be stars & stargazers. 

My poems would be full of stardust, 

sci-fi creatures & perfect sunsets. 

But this dude & I broke up 

before the perfect weather reeled me in; 

I traveled East towards New York, 

& settled there amid skyscrapers, 

subways & clouded-over skies. 

Such electricity! 

Golden boy

Looking in on the good life

I might never have found—

You never had to wait for anything;

you received all the things

you have wanted,

& now, this weekend

I’m getting a taste

of the sweet life

from your chocolate-covered

silver spoons.

Boy, how could you

live with such decadence,

without blinking once?

I had to back order

my first bed mattress

from IKEA,

& pay for extra gas,

for my friend to drive us

to Elizabeth, NJ

to pick it up when I moved to NYC

while your Mommy

took you to the fancy mattress store.

Without sweating, she paid $3000

for a bamboo-based, hypoallergenic topper

with memory foam & beautiful linens

(so you won’t sweat as you sleep)

but I’m sweating now,

realizing how

everything must had cost you,

& you could never

truly be yourself

They planned your whole life

since the very first minute

you were born—

& I’ve been on my own

since I graduated my first college,

working hard for everything,

but my life is completely mine,

& my Target spoons work just fine.

Belize

The heart of the ocean

doesn’t always contain gold;

the multicolored coral

is full of swimming life.

We left the rain forest behind

& we followed the river

to the tall temple,

built more than a hundred feet high.

It’s open to the elements 

outside, the flowered jungle, for hundreds of years.

After we climbed its roof,

the vistas sparkled as a reward & response.

The night sky is full of gold stars

but today’s white sands have captured 

our imagination—music rings

from steel drums as the waves

lap upon the beach, lulling us 

to sleep as the sun sets softly.

Floral district

I saw forgotten

blushing petals

blown away, outside,

upon the graffiti-

tagged storeroom’s

walls & walkways

on West 28th Street,

hours after closing time.

I wish I was there

when the flower shops

were open in the

early morning,

when their perfume

drifted outside &

freshly danced with

the passersby,

coaxing & smiling:

“Come in!

See all this beauty

in the flesh”—

& I would

be tempted to stay

in their

miniature

gardens

for a while,

as a curious

but knowing

Eve or Persephone,

Perhaps

they would say

I was as

beautiful

as their

blooms?

When the music plays, the jungle grows

Radiohead’s song “Nude”

breaks me open inside

like a holy golden egg.

When I close my eyes—I see green leaves.

It will rain today.

I went walking in the morning;

the clouds were intense.

Today, my head doesn’t feel

like rain; it feels like an

overgrown jungle, too full of life.

I want the sun back—

I want to stretch out in bed, nude,

to melt with the golden light. With you—

© Jadina Lilien: Wild With Spirit-2
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