three poems
by Abbie Hart
sangue
gufo meaning owl rolls around my head sometimes
a small restaurant in cambridge where i noticed
my first uti. six months later, i too am making
overpriced aperol spritzes and thinking of more.
hoping my patrons aren’t pissing blood like i was,
because that’s gross.
more’s over before it’s begun,
watching my body get on the plane and leave
eagerness behind, my cowboy boots with it.
i wonder what has noticed my absence, what feels
it most acutely. i hope and am killed for my insolence,
again.
column
a man from tipperary hovers awkwardly
above me, whispers, in the lamplit dimness of
my room in south dublin.
far from southeast texas, i have lived too
many lives to reconcile with the course of this one.
he has kind eyes and ringlets and
i don’t think he loves me
so i’m not going to ask about it.
i am always learning valuable lessons in
how to not break my own heart.
i roll this particular glass ball around in my
head until it shatters and then i blu-tack the pieces
to my walls.
they will fall on me while i sleep.
i don’t mind; never have.
fridge
i’m going to crawl into the bag of rambutan on the second shelf of
my parents’ fridge ($5.99/lb at heb) and try not to think about
the things i left behind for a dream that died five years ago.
my grandma inexplicably brought a bowl of mashed potatoes
just for me the other night but we’ll all watch them go bad in
their little blue pyrex.
when i leave i’ll miss the good tortillas.
i will learn how to make them while my roommates talk in
hushed mandarin in the dim light of our south dublin flat and i
will be happy.
Photo of Abbie Hart
BIO: Abbie Hart (she/they) is a weird fella from Texas. She has been published over 40 times and is the editor-in-chief for the Literary Forest Poetry Magazine. In her spare time, she learns useless skills and thinks about Fantastic Mr. Fox. She has two chapbooks, head is a home and roadkill years out through Bottlecap Press. Her website is abbiemhart.wordpress.com, and her Instagram is @abbiemhart.