Lea Anderson

the carousel

it is peak summer
and I am eating
600 calories
per day

in a sun-soaked

feeling like a god
high on my body
eating itself

i think when you burn
you burn ecstatically

there in a room full of unblinking people
flames cartwheeled from my mouth
cackled like laughter

what do you think happens
to a body that bends
its own truth backwards?

reeling in the negative space
death seemed beautiful
in the way absence
seems beautiful

so quiet
and sterile
and clean

monologue of a jezebel (in five parts)


white boy is unaccustomed
to staring or else
gets off on it


on the phone at 3am
when the air is heaviest
white boy says he’d make me
his girlfriend says

he’s uncertain
if he could ever
bring me home says

his father would approve
as his father approves
of all his sexcapades

but Spring Hill
is a small town
rural     you know


white boy loves my body
hates that he loves my body
and I understand
because I hate my body too

have resigned myself
to my rotting alter

its disproportion
the width of my thighs
spilling across a seat

i need white boy to tell me
i’m pretty to tell me i’m beautiful
words white boys only use
for white girls


white boy tongues
the deepest parts of me
gnaws through my legs
thick and unladylike
picks tiny black hairs
from between his teeth
he runs his hands
down the length of me
smooth as a palm run
through sand – deliberate
as an angel appearing


white boy is problematic
to say the least
but when he kneels
to fuck me I am certain
he is seeing god

Lea Anderson holds an MFA in poetry from The New School. Her poems and other writing have appeared or are forthcoming in SWWIM, Jai-Alai Magazine, and Luna Luna. Follow her on Twitter @leaeanderson

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s