“Between My Fingers” by Kay Bess

Goddamn it, I miss my cigarettes.
I miss the light up,
the first inhale…
I miss ‘em like my worst best girl friend,
you know…
the friend
you tell everything to
who cheers you on
in your darkness.
The kind you call when you’re shitfaced
because you lost the part you were born for,
who holds your hair back
while the room spins and you wretch at the toilet.

The kind who takes your favorite suede jacket from the ‘70’s
without asking,
the tobacco brown one with fringe on the sleeves,
and then spills red wine or some fucking shit on it,
like she could replace it in a minute
with a cheap crap knock-off from Target.

Ya, she’s the cat who leaps up on your newborn’s chest,
lays there quiet for a while, then steals his breath
while you’re making cookies in the kitchen.
The kind who fucks your husband when you’re out of town,
then borrows your brand new panties
before she leaves through the front door in broad daylight.

She feels good,
in a comfortable kind of way,
if for no other reason
than you’ve known her,
held her there between your fingers and inhaled her,
your whole life.

And even though she does all this awful shit to you,
she’ll always be your friend.
She’ll even make your bed for you,
you know…
so you can lie in it.

Kay Bess

© 2011

(anonymous photo)

“Uneasy Chair” by L. K. Thayer

I can’t get the

bitter taste
of you out of my


you’re a nasty muse.

I gave you my lining

I gave you my inseam

I wore my favorite



I sit like a cat


for the next twig to

to hear if there’s

an echo or

anything to bounce

off of.
but there is

no murmur
to fill my void.

you lean back in your
easy chair

while the rest of the city


and sinks into potholes
on bumpy roads to

Photo by VC Ferry

scratch your balls
and worry

that you’re out of cream

and Sweet & Low

for tomorrow morning’s

cup o’


L. K. Thayer

All Rights Reserved

© 2009