“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.”