27/30
Pilgrimage to my cunt
Growler expanse void
Rid the world of your token ideologies
Kitschy bullshit and the bowels
I am the bowels of doom and archaeology
finds I am fine here I am fine fine fine
Fired from my job and who gives you
frequency frequent flier miles birth control
Babies scream monkeys end up hating the
godless thing Cousins kissing cousins Charity
lives full of lies Moths orgasm at your bare feet and
we lost god The rides aren’t broken rotten or petulant Fat brides-maid waits eagerly eyes roll back Speedometer passive-aggressive hard ribbon candy Christmas sticky Lemon drop soured on my dirty tongue You are my tongue the sting under my feet.
Resurrection
Cast the circle in sea salt and
wet bones, praise the body politic
that pulled them under ground.
Hail corners of the dark, soft,
red clay, slurp sulfur from
matchsticks, wine from your chin—
pretend this is your blood.
Focus on constellations, eclipse
a full moon, name the sky,
pour into a pool of your sorrow.
Ask your familiars to say their
true names, borrow a tooth or claw,
fashion a pendulum, ask it if
you will survive this.
Jennifer E. Hudgens uses poetry to navigate the weirdo/darkling/beautiful thing called life. Jennifer holds a Bachelors degree in Creative Writing from the University of Central Oklahoma and is currently attending Oklahoma State University for her MFA in poetry. She is Editor-in-Chief at Wicked Banshee Press, Assistant Poetry Editor of Jazz Cigarette, poetry reader at FIVE2ONE, and editorial assistant at The Cimarron Review. Jennifer has been published in several online and print journals, with work forthcoming in Thirteen Myna Birds, FIVE2ONE, Thoughtcrime Press, Red Paint Hill, and Glass. Jennifer’s chapbook Paloma, is forthcoming from Blood Pudding Press in winter 2017. Jennifer is constantly striving to be a better human and poet.