Faye Chevalier is a Philadelphia-based poet and essayist. Her poetry and essays have been featured in the Horse Less Review, OCHO Magazine, Voicemail Poems, Alien Mouth, Bedfellows, and elsewhere. She spends her time being followed by the number eight and (maybe) a vengeance spirit. Find her on Twitter at @bratcore 

2 poems by Faye Chevalier

infinite_deserts

 

(why) withal—

calls them fine/al

church lights

 

{the act of regret-being}

{___ final few-words}

 

counter-suns

 

___

silent dome-body

 

{snow // over the desert}

(why)

withal—

 

calls them fine/al

church

 

lights

{the act of regret-being}

{___ final few-words}

 

counter-suns ___

 

silent dome-

body {snow //

 

over the desert} {over

 

___ grassy shout

 

-streams} {over

 

the desert} over








 

sext___

 

the —and/in— is the want

(-ing) ___

grave shoulders

 

(fresh + learn[-ed]

—been touched—

 

sounds like[

-echo] casting){___ want

 

to be frantic ___want to

be frantic}

 

—canned laughter // dying

eggplants {pre-grieve

 

___ broken knuckles, a face

w/o a tryst {w/o

 

second-tries (tryst-snaps like

cased dry beans for them

 

loud ears) ___ need not}

 

be the recursive give ___

gaze ___—snap gaze—___

 

canned —and/in—

as in pleasure // pain

 

as in semiotics // livid-ness

 

as in ___ want // (am) sinking—

 

good-real? right real?

 

___ could be less canned

could

be {___}