Black Magic

by Melinda Noack
I will offer up all
of my hardnesses, my black magic
& the slivers of tar between my teeth.
I will exchange fresh meat for fresh
burns & you can call it “a fair and just
transaction.” I will do this, my dear,
& drag my dainty brass scales
down the embankment, further centigrade
to a colony heaving along the breach.
Thousands of eyeless stones facing
outward, neon water snakes
coiling against & hopelessly retardant.
Panic filters through waterlogged
melancholia (what the gods once called
“divine order.” what I called “a vacancy
chain.” what you call “a vacancy.”)
& without the anglerfish nothing but
Melinda Noack likes to think she only exists on paper. Really nice, good-smelling paper. She is also currently engaged to a burrito. A very spicy chicken burrito. She also does things.


Back to Poetry.

Back to Issue ​7​.