Caroline Rayner is a contributing editor at Cosmonauts Avenue. Her poems can be found in Shabby Doll House, Witch Craft, Scum, Inferior Planets, and elsewhere. She tweets @scaroline9.

2 poems by Caroline Rayner

pink noise

okay             i just       collarbone             dug until serrated with little knives i memorized on the

radio while learning how to drive   and i tell you what             delilah gave me       everything       i

needed                   like gelatin i could rub into honeycomb lacunae while reciting wuthering

heights from memory until strong and sweet as dogwood             cleaving the gorge between my

thighs       becoming prismatic as anything   except human       grape against glass       like

translucent whatever                         each morning i divide until simultaneously iridescent and linen

still wasted       like i never promised anything except       reckless behavior             like i bruised so

easy because i thought i deserved tenderness   with salt      i puke lavender and get real precious
i love shaving candied fur off each branch       i love being hazardous       i love it             and yes   i
can reach because i practice       violently             naked in front of the mirror   eating avocado with
a spoon   collapsing in tears   resisting from now on

let me count specks of real vanilla while barefoot in the powder room with the door locked and

devotional burning                   let me spill earth juice down each wrist until animalic

let me dissolve until halved             let me                  let me

high school made me sad as hell but i could not             hold it       with bold hands                   once
i tried while floating above the electronic scale   as undetectable   as desired       until found
sobbing in the bathtub                   twice i tried during hurricane season   with meat       cut into

such tiny bites       i let each one rot under my bed   without telling anyone       and yes       i

handled the stench                   three times i tried but already      whatever


no one loves   a fat cicada             i mean

bodiless             i mean       on the spectrum of decay             i mean       would somatic architecture
mellow if hormonal upon leather in june       would the architecture mellow if smeared with vegan

cream cheese       would the architecture mellow if the ghost             i mean       the phenomenon of

aura captured on film by a woman       the enchantment of juniper breeze lotion       the grammar
of water upon belly fat             i mean      energy snacks buried where no one can even think

maybe magnolia where no drone goes       maybe river where jellyfish kill hummingbirds

maybe yard where daisies fuck heaven             i mean       pissing chili and thorn

like essentially             the kind of girl who shits amethyst when teething   the kind of girl wearing

terrible fragrance   the kind of girl   or diurnal predator       crouched upon tile

because america must be swallowed   whole 

 

 

smoke show

fucked up my knees on saturday   morning in the park       backflip gone raw like jam       i can feel

it  oozing       attracting bees             i slip into the pond & swim down       where snakes live with

centipedes

            i   never   heal


i keep   picking stinging nettles & making bouquets                       why

            heavy light pins me   like a starfish       with a morning routine       shredded coconut costs

extra       cucumber lotion costs  extra       weed costs  extra             can anyone even afford spiritual

retreat                 i pull out my eyelashes at karaoke   because the supermoon   made me

 

            california by grimes plays on my car radio   when i leave   early

      while i suck on a lemon peel             this time   i know even less      eat even less      & trust no
one             already tried fitting myself inside a snail shell       already tried ripping myself open

with amethyst       & clawing out             like       i read birth charts

      i wore chambray       but like what else   could i give

 

      what else

            what could i             take back