into the storm

calypso, calliope, canopy

the words stick in my head

like elevator sex

and your eyes of glass

I don’t want to be a bitch

but I wish

you would all leave me alone

to drive fast

into the fog

Unforgiven playing loud

to wet pavement


until the dirty teeth of night

pierce my thoughts

and devour them

like tiny rabbits

spit out the soft fur

these few lines

and the crystal stars

of your eyes





Jean Brasseur believes that poets and artists should be compensated handsomely for their work while politicians should work for free. That said, she continues to write anyway, content to be rewarded simply with fame and power. This will be the second time her work has appeared in Phantom Kangaroo as well as other publications.