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Venus Thrash

Gunpowder Lives

By Venus Thrash Ever since my next-door neighbor stopped
in front of the stoop, unfolded The Post
to her son's smiling face, I've been obsessed
with the Obits page.
Kim Roberts

PROTANDRIC

By Kim Roberts Oysters may look to us
like wet floppy tongues,

but there’s no licking.
There’s no touching.
Bettina Judd

THE INAUGURATION OF EXPERIMENTS, December 1845

By Bettina Judd Lucy didn’t scream like most. Though sometimes she
would moan--deep, long and overdue. I’d wake
thinking death. It’s her, knees curled under, head face
down, her body trying to move out of itself. Anarcha
Julie Enszer

Zyklon B

By Julie Enszer The painters call before we move into the new house. Ma’am, they say—

I am not old enough to be a ma’am, but I don’t correct them—
Ma’am, they say, we smell gas.

I dismiss their concern. I say, Keep painting.

Nadia Sheikh

A Wet Daydream

By Nadia Sheikh I let Shane Kennedy
reach back in his desk
to fondle my calf,
soft and buttery
Jennifer Chang

Dorothy Wordsworth

By Jennifer Chang The daffodils can go fuck themselves.
I’m tired of their crowds, yellow rantings
about the spastic sun that shines and shines
and shines. How are they any different

Three Patients, One Morning

By Genie Abrams C’mon c’mon c’mon. Let’s do this thing! “Two or three minutes,” my ass. It’s been five minutes already! Where are they? How long
are you supposed to hang out in this frickin’ waiting room?

Women vs. Ernie

By Bridget Kriner This is what I know about being a woman:
My body is coursing with estrogen,
I have a uterus, my breasts fit into bras
that are fashionable, men look at them.
Maya Pindyck

Baby of the Month

By Maya Pindyck My friend tells me she just saw October Baby,
a movie about a woman who finds out she was
almost aborted—“abortion survivor,” she calls herself.
I ask my friend if she’s seen the newest flick,

Above Average

By Lindsay Vaughn Women who are not ready we have our own ways

we take pills lie in our lovers’ beds

curled like blades of grass we wait for the writhing wind

that aches and rocks our slender bodies they whisper
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