five poems
by Amira Appleblossom
FINISHED
It’s hard to swallow
that it’s been two years
When you left,
the virus came
You knew what
you were doing
Didn’t you?
Darling, don’t play dumb
don’t be the prisoner
in your own game
You see the magenta
glide through my veins,
feel my lips lick
up your rain
Damn boy, I got you
fucked up
Is that why you’re
so afraid?
And I’m sick and tired
of being a seeker
All the psychics
tell me the same
Am I a seeker
of my own pain?
They show me the
Four of wands:
Reunion!
Reconciliation!
You’re coming
home a-gain
You don’t know
how much I’ve changed
Two years is to blame
A mirror to my pretty pain;
confronting my only sane
And I’m sick and tired
of the sweat dripping down—
Down along my defined ribs
entering the cage with
my leveled stomach
I felt perfect
All for your flame?
In the past,
I dwelled in your
sea of question marks:
What if?
How come?
Why me?
What did I do?
Unfinished answers swam
around my brain
I drowned in your
pool of yes and no
You call yourself a philosopher
but you can’t feel
what you claim
The only real philosopher,
is Elliot Smith
He croons, “Nobody broke your heart;
You broke your own because you can’t
finish what you start.”
What a shame!
I’m ready to be the fool again
Am I too tame?
No, not just any fool
The fool in tarot
That’s the one,
I’m ready to play
The Desert
There’s a desert in your mind
There’s a desert and you’re mine
Touch my hand, feel infinite
The desert seeks your refined soul
I dream about you all night
Do you dream of me at all?
I need some of your delicious fervor
Endless like the sun upon the sea
It’s so lonely down here
But it doesn’t have to be
The desert is the only real
I wait for your cactus feel
Murderers On the Mind Blues
It’s been some strange times
cause murderers have
been on my mind
Can’t fall asleep at night
cause I got
murderers on the mind
Can’t think or feel
but it’s all right
cause I got
murderers on the mind
Been feeling a lot
of lows
Thinking about
the Menendez bros
I hate myself
cause I find
them cute
It’s a scary thing
cause my father
resembles their brute
It’s been some dark times
cause you see their lips
breathe the pain
Are they insane?
But if the good green
was the main,
then recovering innocence
is vain?
My father screamed sin!
In my cracked self-esteem;
Still couldn’t seem to
stick the knife in
Been feeling very down
The trial made me frown
Yearning for that high
that only murderers
can find
This Poem Kills Fascists
I dream of Cleo in Tulsa
She came out
Ayesha, she came out
Just for US
What a beautiful thing!
To get what you want
I struggled for years
Now I write down
to receive
Isn’t that enough?
I hope that’s enough
Never could please you…
I’m tired
First stop, the Philbrook
Dammit! We just missed De Niro
They’re filming some picture
about Native Americans
They thought I was
Native American
I dressed like a--
Native American
I want to be a--
Native American
Better bleed beautiful respect!
You’re in Cherokee county now
Tah-le-quah
Meeting of two
Trail of tears
You had tears
Mars told tears
I kept tears
Meeting of three?
Death sprung on
the mind
Heavy tears lingered
From your sockets
I
FELT
BETRAYED
We spoke of your
many suicide attempts
My fantasies of
being murdered
and how you
can die from
trusting someone
too much
I stare straight across
at you from the wooden table
Stare deep-dark into
those elusive eyes.
Guthrie was right;
Is this land our land?
To the Palestinian Boy Holding the Reddish-White Printed Covers by the Fence
What is comfort?
Your covers match mine
A gift my mother
brought back from Egypt
A comforting gesture,
so, I could be safe
in the rummage of NYC
I can feel her
Arab worry through
the fabric
Your image spoke to me,
as it highlighted our differences
I’m in—
You out
A photo identical
to Auschwitz’s bleakness
as you clasp onto
the white fence and covers
searching for this comfort
A wanderer in a cage
It just doesn’t mix
Yes, tragically history
repeats itself
LEARN
Learn. From. The. Fucking. Past.
Little one, can you detect
love from hate?
Have you found it?
What is faith?
When cowards run the state
I hope you
found it
My covers console me
They encapsulate me,
like a cosmic presence
through the streets of sun and moon
Your eyes pierce my insides
I can’t sleep!
I’ve got a key
Have you found it?
I wake up and
it nauseates me that
some have the absolute comfort
to ask, “So, what side are you on?”
Photo of Amira Appleblossom
BIO: Amira Appleblossom is originally from Panama City, Florida, but now she’s currently living in New York City (Queens to be precise). She graduated from The New School in May of 2017, and currently holds an MFA in fiction. She teaches English literature and composition at Baruch College in Manhattan, and in the meantime is working on a novel. Her poems have been featured and published in Los Barbaros Magazine and Sonder Midwest. In her spare time, she likes to hold poetry readings with her students and fellow poets in venues across the city.