You are my queer divine
even though you smashed my cake,
dough old as my appetite.
We licked our hands dry of frosting
hardened under our overgrown fingertips,
marigolds earnest for release.
The blessed nebulous
exists to carve bodies from brains,
unknowing, unrested, dying of joy.
Who are you living in spite of?
You and I, red velvet blood sticky,
twisting past rainbow farms and singing to
the blessed unrest of the road with you.
In your car we see the world we need but
we are young people living in spoiled dreams.
I haven’t seen green, I only see marching,
you drain yourself for
just a pair of eyes.
Who is it for?
Brain laid out to dry,
I am more alive than you will ever be,
sliced open and burning
Julieanne Larick is a Midwestern Best of the Net-nominated poet. She studies English and Environmental Science at The College of Wooster. Julieanne reads prose for GASHER Journal. She has poems published in perhappened mag, Blue Marble Review, NECTAR Poetry, and others. Her portfolio is http://www.julielarickwriting.com and her Twitter is @crookyshanks.