ditch,

the poetry that matters

Pattie Flint

Pattie Flint is an uprooted Seattle native toughing it out in New England and spends her days as an editor at Medusa's Laugh Press specializing in hand-bound books. She has been published in InkSpeak, HESA Inprint, Hippocampus and TAB, amongst others.

 

I forgot to put sunscreen on my hands in

my eagerness to cover the rest of my body

 

irresistible Klondike mouth

let’s play hockey like

Lipton tea bags steep

sleep I wish I was swimming

in the wake of Hook’s

ship baby be my Pan

and the tan line between

my fingers where you

used to rockabye paper

baby one two three scissors

 

 

 

 

A love poem for Cadillac ranch cans of spray paint

 

sell my love for less than cadillac

paint jobs I’m a dreamboat with

banana seats aren’t you comfortable

riding airplanes next to girls who

smile through picket fence eyelashes

I’ll say please and you reply no thank

you but I keep stepping on those

paper needles you’re leaving on

my ground.

 

 

 

 

Zac with a “C.”

 

bicycle spoke thoughts

color wheels spurning

memory of you in that

baby blue hat feeding

our hated matchstick

baby blue like July 4th

day lips and Chicago

nights are you the axe

murderer the jazz didn’t

stop for I wonder softly

 

 

 

 

I love looking at the back of your neck

 

cruel fingers prodding

my dough boy dreams

down into punch drunk

bowls kissing leaves

like Lux would have head

tilted tilt a whirl look her

retainer I want to kiss it

 

 

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                                                                                                                          July 18, 2013