RESURRECTION mag

POETRY by STEPHANIE ATHENA VALENTE

IMMACULATA
 
what if we were the saints all along?
what if we were holy and sacred?




TEXTING IN POSITANO

we can take several honeymoons 
 
my best friend is the goddess of water


my dreams did this me: 
i woke up thinking i was a she-wolf, 
to the enjoyment of an audience

he has his own late, late, late show with oranges
i am the lemon baroness, tart, sour, overripe

i think girls in stockings are involved… add it to the bottom
 
i don’t see why she wouldn’t keep us onboard,


i am this cathedral
i am saints and mourning
 
we are lost things, 
kiss this stone
 
ghosts always come home. are you on your way?
 




TONGUE
 
use it to pray
to dead saints,
never living ones,
careful hands,
lemon, 
oil, 
marble,
spiked, tender
no lies,
rosemary,
petals,
milky lips,
use it,
orange,
dusk, with
cherry ices,
after 
confession,
a rosary,
an ankle
turning,
thousand year
old, steps
don’t eat 
the oranges,
cast a spell
with it,
pulpy, dry
and wet
all over
salivating, saints
don’t often
answer, they
act in 
shadows. 
 

Stephanie Athena 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 Witch Craft Magazine, Maudlin House, and Cosmonauts Avenue. She is the associate editor at Yes, Poetry. Sometimes, she feels human. stephanievalente.com

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