Three Poems

by Britni Newton

Friends with Benefits

He says I’m chaotic but empathetic. Both knees and kiss the ring, the thigh.
Tarot cards spread across the full-sized bed, three layers of blankets and a flat sheet turned dress.

What is desire? A wine bottle without a migraine.
What is desire? A warm meal cooked together.
What is desire? The complete stranger who stays.

As last night’s snow slowly melts down the tiny kitchen windowpane,
you let me soften you, a brief view beneath the surface. Bodies blended together like
a mosaic that will inevitably crack. One soul, two halves.

Do you know decay? The barren sunflowers in the middle of the table.
Do you know decay? The stale coffee pot.
Do you know decay? His unanswered texts.

Old hat, I should purge it but can’t. Neglected piles of laundry, empty beer bottles, soccer match on mute. He says I’m unhinged, too much, and too soon. I’ve never been good at deciphering the unspoken rules.

Postcard to Stray Cat

I wonder if you’ve reincarnated into the orange patched stray cat I started feeding,
she looks at me like she knows me – a familiar green eyed squint.
Except your eyes were brown,
black in most pictures.
I think mine have changed since we last saw each other.
I’m getting headaches again but the MRI was fine.
When the migraines end I always crave your blueberry muffins,
and wish for warm cabbage rolls from the old yellow pot.
I should be able to find some in Peoria but haven’t looked.
Was that you? The times I heard my name,
but the house was empty?
I still embody your superstitions,
keeping all umbrellas outside.
Autumn is coming,
and the multicolored trees remind me of West Virginia.
I sometimes think about going back,
but then who would feed you the cat?

McDowell County

Smoke rises from stacks
of Sears-Roebuck and coal company houses.
Home to dust coated lungs, steel hands, sweet words.
There’s something growing in those murky green hills.
Wrapped in broken Gaelic and Eastern superstitions, melun jinn.
We birthed the ingredients for the ritualistic stock of your melting pot.

BIO: Britni Newton’s writing can be found in Amethyst Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, Blood + Honey, Funicular Magazine, Wishbone Words, and others. She takes inspiration from both the pain and pleasure of everyday life, familial folklore, and occasionally the antics of her three spoiled cats. She’s based in the Midwest.