Could be a Gladys
Rattles her french tips in a bag full of Swedish Fish
Hair touches a Jesus above the normal one
Something boils in her trunk
Pitchy high C in Blessed Assurance
Is a Coy
A father, a teacher
Smokes a damp cigar facing the backyard
Laughs at a video from a few days ago
Happy to have her home
Maybe a Sammy
Sits outside a highway chapel
Holds a piece of gum
Bends over a bench, pushes their finger into a rubber break in the cement
What are we if not constant eruptions?
Liv Campbell writes poetry from her home state of Texas. She received her BFA from the University of Evansville, where she acted in plays and read her poetry in the basement at open mics. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in Filter Coffee Zine and Does It Have Pockets.