I would like to say when I look upon your face my soul
blooms a redolent proliferation of wildflowers, do-you-
like-butter yellow, softpink and white and purple-blue
like the May fields and forests, the knot of bluebells bursting
through the dead leaves and the spilled coins of Anemone
ranunculoides but really when I look at you my soul
is more like a dollar store at eight p.m., no one else
around and I’m free to roam the aisles of tile and fluorescent
light, picking up each item and turning it over and over
in my hands before choosing two things I need—a new
notebook and a jar of marinara sauce—and one small treat—
Halloween knee socks, purple and white striped, dotted
with fanged cartoon bats, and after I buy them I still have
five bucks left for beer from the 7-11 next door.

Previously published in Spider Mirror

© Jessie Lynn McMains

Jessie Lynn McMains is a poet, writer, zine-maker, and small press publisher; a collector of souvenir pennies and stick & poke tattoos. Their words have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Barren Magazine, Philosophical Idiot, The Ginger Collect, Sad Girl Review, ISAcoustic, Cauldron Anthology, Anti-Heroin Chic, and others; they’re also a contributing writer for Pussy Magic. You can find their personal website at recklesschants.net, their press at boneandinkpress.com, or follow them on Tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram @rustbeltjessie

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