2 poems | Kyra Wolff

the almosts



i was jealous of the houses that could afford chimneys

so i became smoke she created between her teeth


she fingered my broken watch during Photography

i offered it to her and she never spoke to me again


i loved her like i loved a painting, without her knowledge

five years later i looked away from her amateur porn



it’s said the drama off stage is always more entertaining

than the children on the stage, we were sure to make it so


the short velvet dress was the only thing that fit me

in the closet where his fingers outlined my bra strap


he was a tiger playing a vulture and i was Shame

he could only get off when i was stolen from a man



my distraction from death hid in his shell instead of scaling

buildings with the responsibility of my soul between his teeth


constant chatter about self-produced slime and fetishes

for our limbs and sex organs were already tied up in mutual disgust


i called him before the ambulance arrived, hoping to get it on

and over with before i left eternally, just to feel one last time



she was black-blue like the worst day of a bruise

before it turns mustard yellow, which she also was


a notebook i was too scared to fill for when i kissed her

i saw the first tear in the page from pushing the lead too hard


i was a broken bone who was too fearful to love a doctor

our art would have been hung in the waiting room of my life



we were both psychic and ended it before we started

cursing each other over thunderous waves, crashing, crushing


flooding the attic created enduring mold samples to ship

between continents, i painted her penmanship on the windows


i carve timezones into my skin and she becomes my lighthouse

in present tense, across the sea, my always potential love



Trans-Exclusionary Rotting “Feminists”



unlearn, rebirth:

cry piercing in

infant naivety.


what’s left after

clearing away

expired milk ex

date opinions?


they prowl blank

slates, you could think

nothing to eat

but feast on crumbs,


these monstrous

bigoted brutes

twist the arm back.


private showing

Male Treatment of

Opposite Sex,

genders killed off

one by one till

just two remain.


pay-for-view fight

binary v.

binary punch,

screaming viewers

block our view of

the ring, scheming,

fostering false



Kyra Wolff is a writer, artist, and YouTube personality hailing from South Dakota. While she got her start writing and reviewing young adult novels, she now spends her time writing poetry. Her poetry has appeared in The Rising Phoenix Review. Find her in the void: twitter.com/kyra_kat.

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