6.08 / July 2011

Three Poems

Harlequin Does a Handstand

all phrases from Harlequin American Romance #795
[wpaudio url=”/audio/6_7/Mccool1.mp3″ text=”listen to this poem” dl=”0″]

Cole, I am on fire.
Raquel nearly screamed in frustration,

dusted his chest and tapered downward.
The world: a sprinkle of dark hair
enough to carry the weight of
his virile body. His shoulders were broad.
Raquel drank in the sight of

a wind-swept shore,
a tidal wave slamming against,
through him. With the force
felt his own release roar.
He felt her shatter beneath him.

Was a single word: Boom.
Scrawled across the face.

Bottle of perfume on the dresser,
a spill of powder and an open
with every breath he took.
And firing his imagination
and sexy teasing his senses
permeated the room. Alluring.
Her wildflower scent

that nearly paralyzed
everything but the exquisite pleasure.
Her tongue wiped his mind clean of
innocent talent, of
his thighs, the clever torturous
vows, the tickle of her hair,
his good intentions, his strict.

And low and dangerous
dawn, his voice was deep
in the fragile stillness.
He scanned the quiet cobbled streets.

Yet Raquel sneaked right past.


Harlequin Bears the Illegitimate Child of Billy Collins

all phrases from Harlequin Babies and Bachelors USA: West Virginia
[wpaudio url=”/audio/6_7/Mccool2.mp3″ text=”listen to this poem” dl=”0″]

Yes, Holly was the salt of the earth. Each of her tender smiles
was the salt of the earth. Yes, Holly. Each of her tender smiles
made him want to kiss her and kill her, until her dark hair spilled
and made him want to kiss her, kill her until her dark hair spilled
the tender earth to him. Her want made of the holly, salt and hair
was her dark, her kill. Each kiss of her spilled until, yes, smiles

through his open fingers. He looked more like a shadow
through his open fingers. He looked more like a shadow
than a man. He’d never forced a woman, but with this kiss.
Then he’d forced a woman. Never a man, but with this kiss.
This man never looked but through a shadow he’d forced
open. His fingers like a woman. He, with more than a kiss.

The spear of her tongue tried valiantly dueling with his.
The spear of her tongue tried valiantly dueling with his
until he mastered her. Never tell a man your secrets
until he masters her. Never tell a man your secrets.
His secrets never mastered your tell of her with a tried
tongue. He, the valiantly dueling man until her spear

mastered his with a shadow. He fingers each of her, her
secrets, her salt kiss, her hair open like a yes and, dueling,
he looked through his valiantly forced man to the earth.
But he’d never tried a spear with her until this. Tell her
the kiss of a man smiles tender until the kill. Never want him.
Holly, your woman tongue made of dark was more than spilled.


Beheading the Blondes

all phrases from punchlines to blonde jokes
[wpaudio url=”/audio/6_7/Mccool3.mp3″ text=”listen to this poem” dl=”0″]

Because it said concentrate. It read

P-U-L-L. Because it doesn’t smell
like come to me. Beat me

half to death with it. Shoot

the people pushing it. Remove
their underwear. Put a dollar in

and she’ll rack your balls.

Shine a flashlight in her ear.
So she doesn’t moo-moo

when you pull on her tits. Lipstick

on the cucumbers. Because
she got an F in Sex.

Her headlights weren’t working

so she was flashing people.
I told her first class

wasn’t going to Detroit. I said to

give each Elmo two test tickles,
not two testicles. The blonde’s word

was dick. I stuffed them back in.

Her ankles. Toes go in first. Bobby,
the Wal-Mart greeter, sees her

and unplugs the horse. They were

still arguing (I’m talking
to that little shit on your knee. Lady,

that’s your air freshener.) when

a train hit them. Without saying
a word, the blonde handed him

five dollars. Because blonde guys are

stupid too. The blonde yells
FIRE!!! Run like hell cause

she’s got a grenade in her mouth.

She doesn’t have to worry
about blowing her brains out.


Lisa McCool-Grime loves Sappho, collaborations and wallflower women. Her wallflower publications include Splinter Generation. Her collaborative work with Nancy Flynn can be read at Poemeleon. Tupelo press awarded one of her Sappho-inspired poems first place in their Fragments of Sappho contest.