Two Poems by Sarah Pruis
Ghazal: Honeyed Lips
Come hear the magic of
trap door lips!
Enter the sworded space below
Hive whisperings swarm to
the new gal in town—
the heady summer buzz
of red allure lips.
Campfire-lit cigarettes and flesh-
stories pass thru girlfriends’
Horrors abound about
a boy we know—
his Midwestern-storm-ey eyes
and his carnivore lips.
Inking is so permanent, tongue
left static in prose:
what calls it to lies, love,
and war? Lips.
When the bees are stingin’ your heart,
stop your crying, light a match, and hon-
ney your lips.
On The Dock Besides Him
It’s February fourteenth, yet all I can write about
is the way he smokes his cigarettes:
so many romantic themes to choose from,
and I invoke his cigarettes.
I only really like him because he looks like Heath
Ledger playing Pat Verona
in that rom-com, ‘specially when our squabbles
provoke his cigarettes.
Swear it’s the image I care for, not his—
His that curves over the dock, smooth
as a crew stroke, skin radiating silver heat,
as he smokes his cigarettes…
I shiver in the heat of his dimpled smirk,
which more than shines; it shimmers
off the canal with houseboat porch lights,
and it cloaks his cigarettes.
Here above the water, I’m more him than me,
more smoke than Sarah, as I draw
the contents of his chest into mine and second-hand
smoke his cigarettes.
Sarah Pruis is a bachelor’s student based in Seattle but currently studying at the University of Hyderabad in Telangana, India. Her work has been published by The Lingua Journal and Ascent Aspirations Magazine.