Poetry: ‘Cuffing Season’ & ‘Poem (for the girl upstairs)’ — Featuring a Painting by Kahlil Lucine Kasir
Don't Talk by Kahlil Lucine Kasir
“cuffing season”
i’m trying to be nice because
i had sex with this band’s drummer
a couple of times
but the lead singer warbles with the wrong key
but the right idea
and i remember how the drummer liked
his idea of me
but i always could have been
anyone
now this band softens into the same ambience
as eating cheap ice cream in a car at 3 am
with someone charming you don’t love
and i like the mood of remembering
roaming hands sneaking into my coat
fingerspelling his intentions
hands gripping the waistband of my skirt
his beard rough between my thighs
memories of weather too cold and
a long drive that could have turned into
something but we grew up at
different times
and fell in love with
different people
snow outside that bar like rain
and he tells you later
he's sorry but he's
getting back with his ex
and you text him a year later
when your girl is beating you down
(are we together, you had asked;
i don't know, she said)
and he reminds you
you're worth all the basic niceties
she told you you weren't
and when he tries to talk to you after
you block him
and get back with your ex.
we never needed each other to be
real
just available
-Francesca Guerrero
“Poem (for the girl upstairs)”
I live in an apartment, four stories
high. Only one more floor above me
is a man who parks his motorcycle
too close to my car, has a
bird feeder hanging
on a fishing rod poking out
the cracked window which attracts all
the birds my cats enjoy watching.
And there’s someone else
who lives with him that I’ve never seen
but I hear her when they’re having sex
and when they’re arguing. He would shout
“What do you mean I don’t care!
Because I didn’t go down on you?”
She would scream back, “I’m throwing
myself at you because I want you
to love me, you bastard!!”
Then there would be some loud stomps
and the flapping of wings
of the frightened birds,
and I wouldn’t know if the girl upstairs
is safe or not, or if she’s hungry or full,
but I would realize it was her
who put the bird feeder on the fishing rod
because she’s the one who cares
if the birds find pleasure in the harsh winter,
if they find delight in taking and eating
without having to pay a toll. It’s her -
the one with breasts, ass,
concerns for things that should be simple fun.
She’s the one who would leave,
wear the role of a caretaker
one last time, then disappear
in the blink of an eye,
leaving behind some lessons
of consequences and regret,
like a snowman in a hot bath.
- Kieren Jeane
About the Poets
Francesca Guerrero (she/her) is a 30-something who lives in the Midwest and has a complicated answer to the question, "where are you from?". She uses poetry and photography as an attempt to introduce an audience to emotions and moments through another's perspective. She can be found on instagram at @ifyoufalldive, where she follows her local DIY scene for inspiration and shows.
Kieren Jeane is a painter and poet currently living and working in Baltimore, Maryland. Jeane’s work has been shown in various galleries including Prince Street Gallery in New York City, Project Gallery V in Brooklyn, and Gallery Aferro in New Jersey. Her paintings have also been published twice in Art Maze Magazine based in London and multiple literary journals including Asterism of Ohio State University, Coelacanth of Newman University, Collision of University of Pittsburg, and Equinox of University of Arkansas. Follow Kieren’s work on Instagram.
About the Artist
Kahlil Lucine Kasir is a disabled, trans artist who's work revolves primarily around the healthcare system, physical and mental illness, ideas around monstrosity as it relates to cripples and disfigurement, the inner complexities of being disabled, and familial abuse.
“Don’t Talk was made after my first break up from a long term relationship, the person I was with couldn’t take how my disability could affect our lives together as my chronic pain and need for good healthcare really affects a lot of my life choices, and these feelings manifested in a constant fear of my body. A month afterwards I began seeing someone (who modeled for this painting) who was attracted to me in part for all my scars and disfigurements and found that deeply liberating.”
