j e n n    m a r i e    n u n e s

 

There: NPZ
(It's Not Fair)


Marionettes




































There: NPZ

(It's Not Fair)

 

Mother-me-do the days turned electric. The dishes we should throw the storm that wonít rain. In the closet thereís a window small as a picture frame. Count red cars & suck licorice. It hurts for you to see us this way. Itís the rib I came from the reluctant giving. No one is ever right here itís a trap a time in a time in a marionette on tangled string. What else did I do as a child? Sneak on the roof play myself empty pepper shakers in the puddle. Do those things & catch fireflies count them count the sheep on your sheets. Count us forward the mother dwindling dancing past midnight losing her shoes. The mother on the bed coughing. Count years count days count the steady beeping. Count the spills & the cereal bowls & envelops torn in half. Count whatís equal. Itís not fair Iím the child. The mother went first she cut the cake. Count the pieces. Itís not fair Iím the mother. She got lost I got hungry.

 

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Marionettes

 

I made a doll of me & you made a doll of you & we lured each other away with clear skin fresh breath precious clocks made for feeling. Our little terry-cloth mothers. Someday everything is electrical. Our dreams of flying. Who made who first? Who made who softer more pliant? The blemish is the blemish is the heart. What are we if we canít love each other? Just sit down in the street with open arms? I took your doll on a plane to Rio. I took your doll in my hand under my skirt I took her eyes into my mouth and saw the future. Where did you take me? On a long trek through the mountains? To the sea? Or did you put an ear to my chest & hear the ticking. Close my eyes with tiny magnets & push me in the canal. There I fall in love with a rusted out shopping cart. Our children half-basket half-pillow half-robot roll out of the slime. Put your hand in. There were never any locks never any door.

 

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JENN MARIE NUNES has published other poetry and fiction, some of which can be found in journals such as Humble Humdrum Cotton Frock, elimae, the Sonora Review and Danse Macabre. She is a member of New Orleans. Some say she has pretty eyes.


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