ILLUMINATI GIRL GANG VOL. 3

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Kelly Schirmann

3 poems


FAKE WEATHER


i am outside you

in your fake weather


burying my poor boots

i was the one


dead from leaving

but i’m lying


your type

is the doe woman


you woo her over and over

into the snow


her deep brown bangs

against the bark


her tits translucent

as the worst moon


i could never make a radio

from a tripwire


i will never vacation

in copper canyon


jump nowhere for no one, i say

and shoulder a satchel


but even that

is bullshit




I DON’T KNOW HOW


i sent you a text

that i found your letter


it’s not what i wanted

to begin with


the snow is too much

to come to


in the air like

more air


i am at the beach

with someone else


he holds my hand

watching the breaks


he breaks my heart

kissing my neck


we could have been

in cactus weather


together

we ate so slowly


from the same

meager bowl




MOON


who cares

that the moon is up


that you can

so easily obtain a gun


there is a coat

i belong to


& there is you

at night


we can still see the ocean

we still need a mountain


to sleep underneath

& become small


i make my hands

from an old knot


an actual moment

of sun


there are so few

actual words


there is a part

of your body


that does not disappear

when i call to it


i want my first pet

against the hill


i want a means

of hunting him


i want

the black bear


to eat from our trash again

& you in the rain


do you still love me

incompletely


what is that

big deadness


we yell at

over the trees




Kelly Schirmann studied languages, personal thought patterns, & forms of apocalypse at UC Berkeley. She currently lives in Portland, Oregon & continues to do very little else.