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 {___}