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poetry inchoate desires odd jobs |
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Tetanus by Lola Huston author info Love is a rusty nail. Sweat it out. Purge it. Eat a little something. Drink plenty of water, a little milk to encourage the release of cleansing mucus. Yeah, it’s toxic. You get out of your head. You don’t know what you’re doing. You wake up hot and flushed. We redden. It’s oxygen. It can’t be helped. Dizziness lasts too long to be called a "spell." There’s the sweet accidental brush of skin against skin in public and you don’t know what to do. There’s the gaze that remains longer than one one thousand, two one thousand and comes with a cheeky smile and you don’t know what to do. I mean that rusty nail will fuck you up. I meant the drink, you asshole. I mean love is a rusty nail: scotch and Drambuie on ice. It has no non-toxic vehicle for alcohol. It’s very quickly one with your blood. |
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Lola Huston was the very first in line at the Wire show at Chicago's Metro on May 10, 2000 and would have scored front row center balcony except that Metro staff stopped her and made her check her bag in. She enjoys foreign languages, history, The New York Times, and good writing of all genres. A book of her poetry, The Memory of the Snake, is available on Fengi Press. She now teaches English in Japan.
All material copyright the authors, printed with permission. |