Poetry: Selections from Barbara Genova

my cousin brings a gun home 

check this. It's in my hand and he wants me to hold for a minute. 

His mother's porch: early afternoon, summer; three separate parents around. 

Says un paziente gave it to him – that would be a customer; my cousin's a doctor, I wonder 

what kind of patient gives a doctor a gun 

is it to hide away, is it in lieu of payment 

straight from the heart, here's to you doc, no I owe you 

and do not ask – not then not now 

whole point of the show being, it's weird but it's cool, eh, people 

My cousin, who was a face surgeon by that time, also: 

got grown-man wasted off emergency room anesthetics 

got me on pharmaceutical opium at fifteen and a half 

might not work he said, and I quote, since we took alcohol 

they used to rig each other up, flatmates 

in a session he recalled the one word he said was fuuuuck 

followed by coma silence not a twitch 

and then five hours later: fuuuuck 

is it any wonder he wanted to blow me once – just a stray thought – and he told me in a text, five to seven years after 

is it any wonder he married a plum doll who went maniac 

hit me again come on, the hit being botox the sugar lickiest of jabs 

I love it when soldiers marry babes, but you gotta wonder 

how much of it comes down to the high/low, the unaccounted months 

the guns the sudden departures from metropolitan areas, plural 

how much of it is, i'm gonna marry the first girl ever to wink at me 

gonna pump ten kids into her the rest will sort itself out 

and we'll live happily in a chekovian set up 

abundance, a simple home, we'll get dogs i'll be a country doctor

livelihood 

picture: top of a staircase, a noose swinging, rust on the dawn floor 

or, picture: the lady of the house padding in, track pajamas, cigarette behind her ear 

head tilting, does it change, no 

what, do I talk first, 

does the corpse move around and dictate the terms of its surrender 

it's the first time I've been made a widow 

sure it's a dream come true, however : 

isobel has popularized: wearing vile band tees on slim jeans, 

wearing cowboy hats as a disguise 

and trying to have one photographer on your blue side, 

she has schooled herself in the kill switch double pose of freeze and light up, 

an elegant circuit 

that's according to izzie – it may be tacky and demonic 

suggest it to her please, she's british 

or, she's been pretending so long she believes 

furious grounds a cover of self determination, 

did she do it? 

like, how, though

one, you must have survived a celebrity something 

two, you must be the last girl, or guy, on the scene 

all about lily chou chou being frayed and comfortable in your status of maybe albatross maybe socialite – it is a gift! how else would you wear infamy as a mark of distinction without being swallowed by the  demimonde of libel and club promoters 

make yourself a successor, an orphan, the witness of unspeakable deeds 

make yourself transparent in being just a person 

start with the penitence route it's good 

the feral teenager she visited in rehab / 

                     / smile, hand out, the left, i’m isobel chapman-lee / 

                                                             / who?  / 

was the trial run, subject: adventures in world building 

she sat down on the picnic bench, legs a twenty, complimented the child's affinity for mug shots, then: 

by the virtue of outliving him, you have been thrown on a most unusual path 

and you will walk it until the day you kick 

might as well be prepared 

i wasn't 

can I talk to you a minute hey cowboy you're so tall 

when you're fixing to court an american, a nice boy, an anglo, you name it, 

please make the effort to remember what went wrong during previous attempts 

the charm offensive is yours for the taking of course! the accent: 

perfect the vaguely eastern – clean, drop a the out of four 

you may want to leave room 

brighton beach! cradle of civilization 

tomorrow I call agency 

yes yes east is east if you can hack it 

develop/discover affinity for tracksuits and Baltimore sound 

no one there to recall what shape bugs used to be anymore 

what is east?, everything! you can be what you want once trunk opens 

still be silent as hell about how many attempts have there been 

get clinical, bleach steel sink ring 

mention class exchange, mention suitors if you feel lucky  

you don't know if he's possessive in a way you'll find killer 

you don't want to wake up in the morgue mid-autopsy do you, again

Barbara Genova (she/her/they) is the pen name of a public woman who went private. Poetry and stories written as Barbara have been published / are forthcoming atThe Daily Drunk, surfaces.cx, Anti-Heroin Chic, Sledgehammer Lit, Scissors and Spackle, The Final Girl Bulletin Board, Fahmidan Journal, Misery Tourism, Hallowzine (2021), Expat Press,The Bear Creek Gazette, Discretionary Love,and theHecate Magazine anthology issue #2(DECAY, winter 2021).