Poetry by Barbara Genova

             Mike Maguire CC




my boyfriend kills people in different area codes 

this dude i love with abandon, he had it rough from the get go 

next level insane it's a miracle he grew up mentally ok 

set in his ways, still, very detail oriented 

we met on vacation, i tell people 

we were both traveling through time 

both looking for strangers to kill so we could take over their whole deal
 
their homes their safety nets their lines of credit 

the shimmer it pools 

he's the method man i'm la femme on a spree the one who improvises 

which fine 

i throw knives 

i'm just a guy he says 

as he picks up the morning paper 

my heart leaps out to every place he's been 




​

the fallen women of classical studies 

classical studies required a metric fuckton of cocaine 

alright maybe not metric but you know 

gotta get to that sweet spot 

x pages one hit x pages one hit 

i was wired to the teeth all through the rage-quit exam block 

months of prep and you're done in thirty minutes 

revise read translate hit 

advanced latin, comp lit, medieval lit, erasure 

kitchen sink social realism spread myself on blue linoleum 

surrounded by books just plowing 

they shot up my nose with, in retrospect, considerable speed and agility 

the dedication much stunning 

lick the paper mop the dust light it up love the burn 


aside from the obvious – what i wouldn't give for the same drive, homes 

the educated blaze of the young locust woman 

liberate me until dawn 


was i the only one? i never asked 

the finest blow is supposed to have a sheen of gold to it 

just a hint 


glimmer suburban, girl, narrow, platinum blonde silver 

designer bleached jeans tucked into red suede boots 

we had maybe five of these trash gazelles roaming around campus 

she laced a marlboro light with rocks, walked with me behind the chapel 

can you feel it, good huh, 

her dealer friend was a man of constant sorrow 

you think i'd bother if i had a cunt right here, you think i'd bother? 

right here being the palm he'd slap three fingers on 

and that pulled focus: 

still, why did a knockout sugar bomb tolerate me to the point of breaking crystal 

probably felt like sharing 

i was no helen 
​
next, on the fallen women of classical studies --- 


i've been clean longer than i was using 

worked a few steps heard all the jokes 

yes i've seen event horizon 

can confirm you should not read latin out loud 

liberate me, which, come on 


and: i don't know if you've tried fucking the rapture 

but if you want to ​

Barbara Genova (she/her/they) is the pen name of a public woman who went private. Poetry written as Barbara has been published / is forthcoming at The Daily Drunk, surfaces.cx, Anti-Heroin Chic, Sledgehammer Lit, Scissors and Spackle, The Final Girl Bulletin Board., Fahmidan Journal. She can be found on Twitter @CallGenova   and on Instagram @thebarbaragenova 

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