Two Poems


Poetry by Molly Cross-Blanchard


First Contact: Métis

We show up late to the party
in the northwest   end
dilute the crowd   disperse
ourselves in search
of someone who knows

what to call us   Half

expecting it   we find all the cheezies
gone from the only bag of munchies   berries
fished out
              of the punch bowl into plastic

                                          cups   No one knows
                            how to greet                   uninvited guests and
            the buses                                                                 stopped running
at midnight                                                                                       so we hang
            out with each other
                                      in a circle

                on the long brown strip     of front lawn     We have nothing

to talk about Our silence
comes naturally

Thin cigarettes rest
between our lips waggle

wait

for fire


I Know I Know

so i know we’re doing this unconditional trust thing blah
blah blah and that’s cool ya know but i wonder

if it’d also be cool for you to wear a body cam at school
just in the classes you have with kissy-face Carly and maybe
at work because babe you’re hot and your butt looks bomb
in dress pants i’m posting our relationship on Facebook i know

i know social media’s a venomous bitch but babe
here’s the thing your profile’s still up and it says you’re fucking
single babe IT SAYS YOU’RE FUCKING SINGLE sorry

sorry   put a lot of eggs in your basket ya know the
milk chocolate happiness eggs   shiny golden sanity eggs   free-range
omega-3 procreative eggs and if you drop
            the fucking basket babe i’ll drop you
                          to your goddamn knees
                                                                              PRAY 4 ME BEG 4 ME

you’re perfect you’ve been perfect but my therapist says
jealousy is a v cool emotion to explore and
i’ve got a history you know this he hiked up my trust

fucked so many holes
in my logic and that’s
where we’re at sorry
not sorry

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Vienna’s Apology to the Pigs

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Outraged on Your Behalf