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Picture
Picture
Picture

Juliana Ward


SO THEN WHAT’S REAL 
 
I liked it

I didn’t love it

I only love things

That make me cum

Blood is after all

The cum of the heart

The man at the gas station knew me

From reading the eulogy


I was buying a gas station rose


To put on her grave


And he pulled her name out


Like a lengthy and radiant horn


A white curtain


To wet and experience


Sensual color


In all forms


In all moments


I feel like a polaroid


With these borders


O sweet life


Pearlescent nails


Hidden glances


I can’t write about you right now


I light wood to smell smoke


What does a series do?


Every mark made a metaphor


This is not a bird


It is a metaphor


This is not an absence


I’LL BE YOUR MIRROR 

my bride
my crush
my lovely friend
Elena
Helena
Alexandra
Lysandra
Leonard Cohen
lily of the valley
sad lavender queen
dark blue song
give me anything to smear
across my chest
a humble bunch of violets
a room of thick white roses
I’m never out of things to say
I could see myself in a tower
and love myself even when
the color scheme changes
I could eat a jar of Nutella
if I had it in me
to please
if you really really want something
should you just take it?
if you think about someone
for days at a time
are you in love?
in conclusion:
I hate my landlord
I don’t believe in ghosts
when I saw Molly on King Street
she was in poppy
it felt like she was the only
character in the world
and I was happy
just looking at her back
I was surprised, sure
I was in love, sure
sure, I was treated like a mistress
a hotel
a thick white rose bush
a pile of dirt
I went to the movies everyday
fooled around like a sonnet
sucked water through a straw
so bittersweet
to say goodbye
like that
like the wind
through the banking app
does wearing heels make you healthier?
does the flower have more agency than the sun?
like a spider’s wrist
in a tennis bracelet
will I ever be tender again?


THE BRATS OF THE NIGHTTIME FLOCK TO EACH OTHER

drenched in crystals
 
I walked to my own grave
 
yellow birds were malting
 
I shifted
 
my very name
 
into a vision of complete
 
ecstasy
 
and once it released
 
I had to bury it
 
again
 
chimes
 
don’t leave me now
 
in the yellow dirt
 
I petal
 
my vanity
 
like the shell of an egg
 
on the resurrection
 
I rubbed one
 
out
 
of
 
the black
 
and into this
 
memory
 
of the self
 
like a quarantined
 
silver field mouse
 
and felt the dazzling
 
cold wind
 
against my back
 
time
 
is
 
so brutal
 
and doesn’t care
 
about you
 
it has so many
 
other girls
 
to text tonight
 
I showed X my bedroom
 
through my window
 
he saw the polaroid
 
of my ass
 
in a lilac thong

I don’t want to show him
 
anything
 
from
 
this sterile
 
gallant
 
trite
 
war
 
I am just floating
 
broke
 
and
 
married
 
and married
 
and married
BACK TO ISSUE 12
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  • HOME
  • ISSUE 12
  • SUBMISSIONS
    • Submission Form
  • ABOUT
  • LITTLE BLACK BOOK
    • A NOTE FROM THE EDITORS
  • SHOP