three poems

by Evelyn Hadassah Kronfeld

pan

heavy are your lids

as i stumble through

a new story

of catastrophic good taste

things like flower crowns

like big pits of sexy

like small corners dense

as in my day

my husband is my cherished muse

and a monument to the splendid failings

of my other muses

past and present male presences

my father and my analyst

were pushed and pulled

by the women who forced themselves

into their lives

with money and with time

and gentle humor

we never talk about politics

Alicia Today

stains on tables resembling

and meant to resemble

a visual slogan

i will never be worthy

of the dance

that goes on

inside you

but you will let me

have my way

with the outside

and i will forget to thank you

november 17

scream at me

once in a while

please

i need a new kind of fear

klonopin

we become a pile

of something

you are not you

in this light

with these obscene lines

forming and floating

crunch

the eyes

the specific breasts

the vague nose

pleading is the rat running

our kitchen

i am in control

of my first and last prayer

a secular confession

a confession that i am not lost

and that i have never felt the kind of

freedom

that we think of as

abandon. reckless

which we have heard of and are not

particularly scandalized by.

say nothing.

Try.

we are always saying and

we never ever

tell

because who is who

here? who would be told and who

could tell

Photo of Evelyn Hadassah Kronfeld

BIO: Evelyn Hadassah Kronfeld is a Baltimore-based writer and zine-maker exploring gender, sexuality, psychology, and cultural production. Her work has been featured in Blind Field Journal, Grim Magazine, Right Hand Pointing, and It's Going Down. Her Instagram is @evkronf and her website is evkronf.net.