andie millares
By Tuesday, I Am Fading
after Ashlee Simpson
I bite into a plum / I wear plum lipstick / By Wednesday, I plummet / Get annoyed at a whistle-while-you-worker and feel like / pure evil / dark lipstick kind of evil / More flesh than plum lips breaking a plum skin / Pruned and propped up / Pass fast like I’m pruned up / “It’s stone fruit season,” I say to customers / Stone cold like an icebox where something used to be / Am I that obvious? / Obvious as a plum’s buttcrack? / why does peach get all the ass attention / I’m actually a natural plum / “Stone fruit season is over” / Prune like eczema / Thursday, I scratch and have / less skin / to worry about / Peeled to be / wet, exposed to tongue readily.
andie millares is a poet, arts lover, jewelry maker, and serial hobbyist from New Jersey. Currently living in Brooklyn with the world's most handsome cats, andie is a Kundiman Poetry Fellow, and also serves on the organization's Junior Board. Her work has been published in Reductress, Eleven and A Half, and Foglifter Journal. Her Twitter is @andiemillares.