Chelsea Fonden: There Is No Devil

Photo: Joanna C. Valente

thirst

there is no devil, not sugar or my thighs,

or some deep wrong winding up the river

just the sandbox of my mouth you play in

blood on the new sheets

my waistline like a weeping tree

errant hairs, dark and unyielding

disorder feels accessible,

i apply it like my favorite red,

an accent piece surrounded by palm leaves in someone’s damp living room

while i wonder how long it took

to whitewash each wooden ceiling slat,

each blade of fan, exacting

i try to keep my lips closed

worry is winged,

a tiny bird needling between the saguaros,

a thirst about it—

i’ve never been one to hold one to what could save me

cupboards like forest fires, as bereft as they are brutal

love like slippery fish mooning out from my hands

all my little crescents, overflowing

waking up like the middle of a desert

cocktail eyes yellow under tantrums shifting

there is no wrong

just desire, barbed + baiting

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Chelsea Fonden is a poet and flash fiction writer living in Brooklyn. Her work has appeared in No, Dear Magazine, Breadcrumbs Magazine, and The Electronic Encyclopedia of Experimental Literature, among others. She co-founded and runs the Eclipsed Reading Series; has performed as part of the NYC Poetry Brothel; served as a Poetry Guest Editor for Breadcrumbs Magazine in 2019; and was selected for a Poetry Society of New York Typewriter Project Micro-Residency in 2018. Chelsea has taught creative writing workshops for NYC homeless shelters and after-school programs, and she has almost as many plants as she has feelings.