Poetry
13.1 / SPRING / SUMMER 2018

POSTCARD FROM A MAYA ANGELOU ONE-LINER

I sit blue bitter, still brittle. I trill
tube bells. Rebut slurs, little
sister. It’s utter lies, bull bluster,
slut-rust rites. I bristle bustle. I birl. Bruits
bruise, but I’ll resist ire. I’ll be brute lite,
lest it blister, lest it slit tribes. Rules tilt
results. Ruts blur rutile ruses. Stir litter. Let
ribs bust. Let butts slub. Libel’s buss
rustles us. Test Bill–be sure it’s subtle. Subtle
is trust rebuilt. I’ll list ills: it’ll truss tussle,
rub titles, rile ties, tire suits. Is Buster trite?
Russet islet is bliss butter. Uber-buttress.
Buses tiller till rill. Serbs sell iris tubs. I
rube tuber, li’l turtle. I suit triste lulls. Best
tell Tess I rest. True, I bit bullets. But still I’ll rise.

 

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Izabella Grace is a British author and poet. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, longlisted and shortlisted for several literary awards, and has appeared in Cease, Cows, Black Heart Magazine, The Molotov Cocktail, Dirty Chai Magazine, and elsewhere. She currently lives in rural Ireland. Find her on Twitter @iza8ella.