Health Class
Mrs. Greco normally taught Physical Education,
which we weren’t allowed to call Gym—“Jim is
somebody’s uncle.”
And, “Please keep your periods in Language Arts, ladies.
In this class we will discuss your menstrual cycles.”
And, “Unless you all suddenly sprout feathers,
we will say ova, not eggs.”
After the video about fertilization,
Rachel Zindler asks if what her cousin said
is true, that some super sperm
can swim right through condoms.
Mrs. Greco says, “I’m sorry, Rachel,
the school board does not allow us to cover
prophylactics.”
Then Courtney Clark asks
how to tell if she is in love.
“At your age, ladies, the proper term
is infatuation.”
We lean forward and wait
for her to explain the difference.
She tells us
to take out our textbooks
and read silently for the rest of the
period.
Art TK
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Ugly Stepsister
Often since the ball, when the house is draped
in sleep, I put on my robe and slippers, shuffle
past the wardrobe crammed with slack gowns,
past the door to the empty attic,
down to the kitchen, where the mice linger
just long enough to decide I am still not the one
they love. No one cares if I finish off the whole leg
of lamb, the last of the pumpkin pie.
And if I sit there dreaming until morning,
the new girl Mama hired will come in
to ask if I want tea, her soot-stained face
a perfect mask of concern.
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Transformation
In my fantasy he is never a prince, vanilla pale
and trim, but a swarthy frog, all bulging muscle,
asking nothing more
than to eat from my plate
and sleep pooled together on my bed,
where now, alone, I ripple the sheets,
slide my fingers down
into the cool water and imagine
him there, retrieving my golden ball
again and again and again.
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Boy Toy Villanelle
G.I. Joe comes with a sword and Kung Fu Grip.
When Spider-Man shoots his webs, villains, beware!
Pony Princess Cadance has a brush, a pretty mane to style and flip.
No saddle? No bridle? For $16.99? What a gyp.
“Today’s my wedding day!” squeals Cadance. Spidey, beware!
G.I. Joe comes with a sword and Kung Fu Grip;
he loves to hold a brush, style his friends’ beards with fancy clips.
In his hooded spandex tux (sold separately), the groom looks so debonair.
Pony Princess Cadance has a brush, a pretty mane to style and flip,
and if she could pretty-please borrow Joe’s sword, she could rip
down all those ugly webs in hubby’s den, give the space some sparkle flair.
G.I. Joe comes with a sword and Kung Fu Grip,
which he pawns to open his salon—Action Hero Curl ’N’ Clip.
Dreaming of villains, Spidey wakes up web-tied to his chair!
Pony Princess Cadance has a brush, a pretty mane to style and flip
and a Spider-Cycle she rides away at a fast clip.
Pony Princess Cadance comes with a sword and Kung Fu Grip.
G.I. Joe has a brush, pretty manes to style and flip.
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Rapunzel
How foolish I was to believe that
crooning my name from below meant something
more than pressing an elevator button.
They all want to feel themselves rising
higher. They all want the girl in the tower
to pour herself into their hands.
Who’s to say that, given a chance
at lower altitude, I would be different
from the rest?
Today will be the day I refuse
to lift my head from this damp pillow,
far away from the comb and the brush and the pleading
bodies always luring me down.
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Art TK
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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Light as a Feather,
Stiff as a Board
There was already enough dark magic
at those slumber parties. Still we played
the game: You are riding the bus
or You are crossing the street
or You are walking through the park,
and then
the brakes failed,
the lightning struck,
Your killer drags you down into the leaves. . . .
My friends chanted and slipped
a few fingers under my corpse.
If the spell worked, my soul was gone;
I was light as a feather, stiff as a board,
drifting high above their heads.
If not, they laughed and dropped me.
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Nature Lesson
The dress code says
we must cover ourselves
in
ample pants,
skirts that reach well below
our lascivious knees,
polos buttoned over
the rim of the canyon,
a glimpse of which can send a boy
plunging to such depths
he may never climb back up
to algebra.
We say
that if a hiker strays
off the path, trips, and
winds up crippled,
is it really
the canyon’s fault?
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Red-handed
At the Once Upon a Time Shop,
they make me check my basket,
but who cares. I have plenty of room
under my cape, a six-pack wedged against
the elastic of my gingham bikini briefs.
I buy a Get Well card for Granny,
smiling sweetly at the clerk who thinks
he’s being cute when he hands me
the bag and says, “All the better to
receipt you with, my dear!”
Wolfie’s waiting at our usual spot
with cigarettes. I pull out the goodies,
and the drunker we get, the more I want to
dig my nails into his pelt like
I’m going to scratch his belly, but not stop
there.
“Why, Wolfie, what a big . . .”
If that woodsman shows up now,
I will totally kick his ass.
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Finders, Keepers
It’s not a glove left on the subway,
keys gone AWOL under the couch.
No billboard clamors, Has anyone seen
this missing virginity?
There has to be a better way
to say it.
Finding your sexuality?
Not so much.
Becoming a woman?
Next!
Keeping
your sense of humor?
Your dignity?
Your legs from shaking,
your teeth from chattering,
your bracelet from snagging in his hair?
Keeping your head
on his chest afterward and knowing
that crazy drum solo is playing
just for you.
Yeah.
That was definitely my favorite part.
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Gingerbread
I knew I had to get out of there
before the icing cracked and they discovered
that I’m burnt around the edges,
doughy in the center,
that what they thought was sugar
is salt.
If I was a good girl,
if I could satisfy their cravings,
if every dream in my misshapen head
didn’t bite, I might have stayed at the table.
Wouldn’t you run, too,
from such voracious love?
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What She Heard the Waitress Say
Hi, my name is Stacy! Our soup of the day is souper
yummy, ha-ha! It’s beercheesebeanbroccolibacon.
We have two specials tonight—the crab cakes
with hollandaise, which are, like, amazing, and the buttermilk
chicken-fried steak, which is the best thing Chef Brandon
has ever made. I could eat it for every meal, but that’s me,
I’m naturally skinny and cute and not grossing out everyone
in the dining room! Should I see if Dwayne from the stockroom
will be around later to lift you out of that booth with a forklift?
I’ll give you a minute to decide!
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Going Under
No lifeguard on duty, and she is not at all safe
on her towel, watching the other girls bodysurf.
Her friends have no clue about the tentacles churning
close to the surface, eager to pull her under
if she so much as dips in a toe.
Okay,
one
toe.
All of a sudden she’s up to her ankles
in wrappers, up to her shins, her waist, her thin
bikini strings, up to no good as the tide turns
away, disgusted, and wave after greasy wave
crashes past her salt-blistered lips.
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Life Among the Swans
True, no one teases me now. My new friends
and I, we don’t talk much at all, really.
It’s hard to make conversation
while we’re gliding back and forth across
the mirror, bowing to our majesty.
For a thrill I like to shut my eyes and pretend
I never left the reeds where I waited
out that ugly winter, survived the plain
brown autumn watching the hunter’s hounds
charge past me on their way to prettier game.
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Big Bad Spa Treatment
You are the most important ingredient in this scrumptious day of pampering!
First our expert staff will tenderize those tired muscles with our patented deep-tissue Massage Mallets, leaving you loose and
gristle-free. Next, you’ll soak for at least two, preferably four to eight, hours
in a tub filled with our world-famous Aromatic Marinade & Moisturizer
made from the finest extra-virgin olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, and just a hint of
cayenne to give you that all-over spicy glow. Could your Big Bad day be any yummier?
You bet! Whether your complexion is dry, oily, or combination, our honey
barbecue facial mask will leave skin youthful, pink, succulent, delectable, and omigod . . .
Sorry. As we were saying, we apply the mask while you soak, and the best part
is, there’s no need to rinse it off! It absorbs directly into your pores to seal in
the juices. From the tub, it’s mere steps back to our Ergonomic Butcher’s Block
Massage Table for a sea salt and black pepper rub, though we might throw in
a few bay leaves if we’re in the mood, and you know we are. After that, all you have left
to do is lie back and relax in our sauna, always set at a therapeutically optimal
400 degrees. Close your eyes. Feel the heat deep in your bones. We’ll come and get you
when you’re done.
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Human Centipede Two
for Alexia
is even grosser than
Human Centipede One,
my friend tells me
frequently
during third-period lunch
as I lift the bun to blot suspicious fluid
from Wednesday’s burger
or Thursday’s Sloppy Joe.
In the first movie the villain is a surgeon.
In the second he’s just a guy with
a staple gun,
dirty knives to sever tendons,
and laxatives.
My friend lines up twelve chubby
Goldfish crackers tail-to-head to represent
the victims.
Did I know that most of the sound effects
were made with cuts of raw meat?
That at the premiere they put barf bags
on all the seats and stationed an ambulance
outside the theater for a joke, but then
a woman ended up needing it?
It’s a mark of good horror,
my friend read online,
when it turns your own body against you.
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Spotless
Every edge and surface
in my darlings’ cozy cottage
must be better than perfect.
So I whet one razor
after another against the stony
flesh of my leg until in barely
any time at all I have seven sharp
lines
as deep as the silence of my days,
as straight as the path I ran from
the huntsman,
as red as those three drops
for which my mother named me,
or so the story goes.
They say she pricked her finger
patching a hole in my father’s ro
be.
Dangling her hand from the window,
she thought her own blood on the snow
was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.
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The Beast
Shut behind these walls only the two of us
can see the loathsome creature I am now—
in truth, have always been.
Every night the sumptuous spread,
me at the head of the table, when I really
belong on the floor, begging for scraps.
Every night the harpsichord sings
the same cruel song about love
breaking the spell,
the skimpy rose sheds another petal,
and my kind companion gazes at me
as if I am not a monster in silk and lace.
Every night the same question,
the same answer, the same stumbling
from the room while he howls
the lie that has always been my name.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
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Art TK
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
Poisoned Apples Page 3
