god damn,
it’s hard to think of an escape plan

[charcoal lungs,
there are two minds
inside me

we left our lives like old wings,
we packed our things,
plastic memories

[we live
i’m a perfect party trophy
red lips
tight dress, always black

moved to a new time,
made new disguises for new friends

[pin me at your forearm

i don’t know how to love, love
make me pink up all over

i’m a canyon witch,]
you’re a ghost, but still]
you know how to hold me]
with spirit-limbs]

we’re playing parts, but i wouldn’t act
in any other bullshit play.



Stephanie Valente lives in Brooklyn, NY. Her published works include Hotel Ghost, waiting for the end of the world, and Little Fang (Bottlecap Press, 2015-2019). She has work included in Reality Hands, TL;DR, and Cosmonauts Avenue. She is the associate editor at Yes, Poetry. Sometimes, she feels human.