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Jasmine Ledesma

Last Supper Where I Play All The Roles With One Halo

I’m throwing up right after this

but for now the cherries are fizzing

Like tiny hand grenades and the

bread cracks wonderfully.

My hair has gotten greasy so I slurp.

Hunger makes me inviolable.

I could go days.

I heal with my hands and beg with

my feet.

Listen to the snare of my

theatre of teeth.

A crown gets me seconds.

Laughing like an avalanche.

I’m bleeding rockets,

I’m so excited.

The Light I Want

It is impossible to feel glamorous while slurping

on sterile mashed potatoes or tubing your own

universal blood and yet, I find myself purring in

a paper gown.

Michael says I’ve got a voice for airlines. I’d order

a ticket from you anytime, he insists between mourning

his damaged liver and offering boxed orange juice.

Hoarding packs of salt on my dresser for

when I want a thrill.

I pass the time by asking what time it is.

4:08 and I’m ripping staples from tea bags.

The thought of even bite size danger excites.

You bring sizzling coke and fresh concern.

When I say thank you, does it sound

like 600 milligrams?

Depression Feels Like Selling Out

Days go by without you wanting them to.

Tuesday stays in your bed,

Saturday blocks your number.

I couldn’t be fluorescent if I tried.

And I do try, in the form of over

caffeination and stealing gut-pink lip

gloss from pharmacies.

I can fake okayness as well as

anyone has to.

But then, I remember I’m doomed.

The apocalypse has been happening.

And I can’t even whistle.

Jasmine Ledesma can be found eating diamonds in New York. Her work has appeared in over twenty places such as Gravitas and Vagabond City.

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