Hands are wicked Thrusting against Bedside manner Cigar after, ashtray shocker Swing some of that clear Bed poison Rotten afterglow Some post coital heartbreak
They were meeker times Unwelcome suicide Tempest machines Unplugged for youth(er) years We'd swing into metal screens Halfway there
Stealthy villain–child Who said she'd be the one To disappear Procrastinate Break into the giddy abortionist Maybe like sunset She'll wait for me
Slick like the head chip Fractures we always revisit Though I never promise I'll get there first
Calliope Nerve features poetry, short lit, and odd bits in a wide range of styles. Back issues are available. To order this issue send your snail mail address to nobius at gmail dot com. Email for submission info. (We are always looking for talent.) Internet link trades, advertising, and flyer trades available.
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