I wanted to be dazzling,

like Venus in the late June sky,

glittering gold in the evening,

named after beauty personified—

and now I am twenty-five

and all the things in the poems make sense

and all the songs too

and everyone just gets better and better

at lying

including myself,

so good, I don’t even know

when I am telling the truth


© Alexandra Jema

interplanetary discourse

well sometimes it feels like you are in the middle of some big colossal argument or discussion or whatever and the enormity of the words does not hit you until they are out of your mouth—where it feels like there are half-sentences hanging between the canyons of space between you yet they are the same words—the desperation of trying to explain that you are both on the same side—like poles on the opposite ends of the world—that hopeless, hopeless, hopeful reach—and when the explosion is over and the moondust settles, I whisper messages on comet tails and blow them over to you like kisses

© Alexandra Jema

red is my favourite colour

I see red all the time. I close my eyes and can see my heart beating, feel that red in my veins, taste the salty sour in my mouth. red is a colour of passion they say. I feel angry all the time, is that passion? when I’m not angry I am always falling in love. with the cracks in the sidewalk. with the way the curtains are, in his room, when I am awake when I am not supposed to be. I liked the red sunsets, sometimes I hate them because it is the end of a good day and I don’t know if tomorrow will be the same. and that makes me angry. I saw a picture of a brain once and it was all grey. what the fuck? beautiful things should be red. the way I swipe my lipstick on before a date. the flowers on the side of the road. the little candies that stain my teeth and tongue. too much wine that makes me sick to my stomach. all the red.

© Alexandra Jema