Recent Post
@metatronpress

- 18 hours ago

RT @Marsmella: WHAT,!?!? Omg thank you so much @peachmgzn for nominating my poem for Best of the Net 2020 😭😭😭 you can read it and the other…
h J R
@metatronpress

- 21 hours ago

RT @casonsharpe: being a writer is so stupid...the world said can you make yourself useful and i was like no ❤️
h J R
@metatronpress

- 21 hours ago

RT @anagramofmyname: longings longings longings
h J R
@metatronpress

- 1 day ago

RT @casonsharpe: I'm back back back with a new newsletter called TRIO. Learn more and subscribe here: https://t.co/Ngz4qCZ5FV
h J R
@metatronpress

- 2 days ago

Look who arrived! THE NERVES is here in all sorts of delicious, inside and out 💚❤️💜💙 https://t.co/yb5nFJeMYk https://t.co/nfMWVCPSLE
h J R
Archives

OMEGA | Francesca Kritikos
3861
post-template-default,single,single-post,postid-3861,single-format-standard,ajax_fade,page_not_loaded,,qode-theme-ver-6.3,wpb-js-composer js-comp-ver-5.0.1,vc_responsive

Francesca Kritikos

25 Jul Francesca Kritikos

ANNIE

 

we cut ourselves open and
replaced our sulphurous citydirt blood with
cheap ice cream and cigarettes we smoked
sitting by the river that smells like shit
when it rains too much
trying to shine like the hot silver
tray of perfumes next to your
winterflesh pink bed we laid on and
took our clothes off
in front of open windows because
we were two girls
trying to be more than two girls
and ending up with cemetery sunburns
and soft diner food bellies
and uneven uncareful boyhand imprints
around our throats almost as unsteady
as our hands when we tried to paint
ourselves into masterpieces, two Virgin Marys in
the cold damp basement of my house,
queens on a broken pullout couch jagged mattress
springs leaving holes in our back where
we wanted angel wings to go, dad yelling
at me for stealing a beer from the fridge
while you brushed your hair with the
precision i used to apply red lipstick
just to get it smudged on the edge of a bottle
and when we left parties early together
we felt like god walking around Chicago downtown
at 2am, the street an altar and our high heels
bridging the gap between heaven and earth
and we’d listen, silent and empty as church
for the way men called at us
with their cigarillo smoke signals
crying from their islands alone for us
we’d never admit it, annie
but it felt like worship

 


 

Francesca Kritikos was born in Chicago. Her poetry has been published in The Museum of Americana, Fur-Lined Ghettos, Witch Craft, and more. She was also a finalist for the Nostrovia! Press 2016 Chapbook Contest. francescakritikos.co

More Recent Posts