Emily O'Neill
Teenage Dream Redux
after Katy Perry
We’re losing the new that makes us
incandescent. Drowning it in liquor kiss
& Beirut & table dance. You’ve seen
more of me than I show the mirror,
caught the truest things on film. Gap teeth
& blush. Little silver hoops. Adolescent slouch.
Pictures of last night: too many shots, skin
tight jeans, your hands on me, house of cards
faltering in canyon winds. You
got me up on the upholstery in heels
like some LA peacock with a dare, said
“Brave enough, hummingbird?” & I shivered
into your arms. Matching tattoos,
climb to the roof & into the future.
Give me a million rings. Give me more
promises than I have hands for. Let me see
the dream that got away. Jeep on the beach
or a star with both our names, or the devil, a hero
in every Western. My favorite party dress
a ruffled puddle around my ankles.
Skinny dipping. Heavy head. Losing my virginity.
Falling asleep in nothing but pearls. The motel, the hurricane,
a thousand invisible ships. Heaven got away, so take me to California.
Make me your forever girl. Let me keep the double prints.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Rated R Redux
after Rihanna
This is the test, lighter
held to a black guitar.
Blister. My heart beating
like fists on a car window.
Posted in the back, jacket off,
away from bright lights. I’m stupid,
still love you, am a mad house of stolen
doves & lost prayers. Microwave & metal,
no brakes. Bathing in every kind of fire.
You lit the match for me. You lit the match,
fed barrel a single bullet. We were killing
the blazing city, masked as disaster.
Lovers beat black & blue & rude
& taken. What I want is tougher than running.
The only way I win is by walking away with my knife
& my teeth. The one for me won’t bleed
flame like a crashed car. A thousand tries are heavy.
I can’t carry them any better than I can shit talk.
My heart has a mouth on her. She is a bloody middle finger.
She says to get your shit & get out. She says she’ll count to three.
You wish I would let you steady the wait
with a thousand grenades, let you
work a fucking lady into a broken pony.
I won’t look sideways at that. Won’t lick the gun.
Won’t get my heart crowded
with your kind of heat.
Emily O'Neill is a proud Jersey girl who never met a hook she didn't want to sing. Her most recent work is present or forthcoming in Sugar House Review, Weave Magazine, Whiskey Island, Paper Darts, and Gigantic Sequins, among others. You can pick her brain at http://emily-oneill.com.
Teenage Dream Redux
after Katy Perry
We’re losing the new that makes us
incandescent. Drowning it in liquor kiss
& Beirut & table dance. You’ve seen
more of me than I show the mirror,
caught the truest things on film. Gap teeth
& blush. Little silver hoops. Adolescent slouch.
Pictures of last night: too many shots, skin
tight jeans, your hands on me, house of cards
faltering in canyon winds. You
got me up on the upholstery in heels
like some LA peacock with a dare, said
“Brave enough, hummingbird?” & I shivered
into your arms. Matching tattoos,
climb to the roof & into the future.
Give me a million rings. Give me more
promises than I have hands for. Let me see
the dream that got away. Jeep on the beach
or a star with both our names, or the devil, a hero
in every Western. My favorite party dress
a ruffled puddle around my ankles.
Skinny dipping. Heavy head. Losing my virginity.
Falling asleep in nothing but pearls. The motel, the hurricane,
a thousand invisible ships. Heaven got away, so take me to California.
Make me your forever girl. Let me keep the double prints.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Rated R Redux
after Rihanna
This is the test, lighter
held to a black guitar.
Blister. My heart beating
like fists on a car window.
Posted in the back, jacket off,
away from bright lights. I’m stupid,
still love you, am a mad house of stolen
doves & lost prayers. Microwave & metal,
no brakes. Bathing in every kind of fire.
You lit the match for me. You lit the match,
fed barrel a single bullet. We were killing
the blazing city, masked as disaster.
Lovers beat black & blue & rude
& taken. What I want is tougher than running.
The only way I win is by walking away with my knife
& my teeth. The one for me won’t bleed
flame like a crashed car. A thousand tries are heavy.
I can’t carry them any better than I can shit talk.
My heart has a mouth on her. She is a bloody middle finger.
She says to get your shit & get out. She says she’ll count to three.
You wish I would let you steady the wait
with a thousand grenades, let you
work a fucking lady into a broken pony.
I won’t look sideways at that. Won’t lick the gun.
Won’t get my heart crowded
with your kind of heat.
Emily O'Neill is a proud Jersey girl who never met a hook she didn't want to sing. Her most recent work is present or forthcoming in Sugar House Review, Weave Magazine, Whiskey Island, Paper Darts, and Gigantic Sequins, among others. You can pick her brain at http://emily-oneill.com.
