by gm

Dina Del Bucchia and Daniel Zomparelli


The Rose
for Belle

What happens after
you suffer through
a beast and a wedding,
everyone, objects you knew,
changed into old flesh?

You were so smart,
I always thought
it was about books, ideas,
living life through the eyes of another,
pretending because
life isn’t so fucking great.
We want more.

I’d been dismissed too
for talking about thinking,
pressing my nose to books,
creating new spaces in my body
for knowledge.

When you’re young
all the sexy misogynists,
Provencal gym monkeys
show off their brawn,
propel beastly bodies.

Maybe Stockholm syndrome
isn’t any less romantic
than cocktease guilt.

But once you get involved
in your own fairy tale,
so meta: the magical rose,
like the kind lady’s throw
to knights, like the kind
someone in a different story
will compare to your vagina

Outdated stories.

What happens
when you’ve transformed,
when you’re delicate stained glass,
decorative and one-dimensional?

hollow ship to hell
for Ariel

You saw him on a ship
and he was destined to drown, but
you saved him and fell in love.

I was a fish too, fins for feet,
flapping on the beach only for moments
before the air burned my scales.

I broke my body in half,
footed myself into his life at every moment
until I caught his attention.

I was up late one night in his bed
air burning flesh
again, my body craving the ocean.

My body sealed itself.
Skin tightened and gills
slit neck.

I filled the bathtub with
water and Epsom salts
let my scales smooth.

Then, I slipped out
of his apartment and
sunk back into the ocean.

Now, at night he cuts his skin
to create gills
but can never stay under the water long enough,

tries to keep from floating upwards,
tries to weight his body with cement,
tries to anchor.