Alyssa Trivett


You'd like to call me a fool if I ever told you so,
add to the unwinding scroll list on the red carpet
of things to do around the house,
ante up, all bets in,
my sidewinder head will once be whole again,
instead of making PB&J with my fingers
I'll use grocery store brand cutlery,
and rinse off the edge in the sink.
For now, I've gotta go.
Raincheck this friendship
and scratch nails into that elementary chalkboard
for when they used those in my era, Ninety-two-ish.
With the chalk that smoke alarmed off in your ears,
like cracking & knobby knees while cleaning,
as we live on from year to year to only grow up and make calls
for quotes for driveway paving on a Saturday off,
as opposed to shoe shopping with a shopping cart
with three and a half wheels,
beats that,
I suppose,
no, really.

Lucky Stars

I tallied my lucky stars and
painted them on the windowsill.
We let hours tick,
planting newspaper
smudged fingerprints on
new handles,
and float through door frames
we were afraid of.
Mule-kick yourself
into the unknown,
and take care of your own
head and heart first,

Written On The Back of A Billing Statement

I've been abusing my own rule
to carry paper with me whenever I go.
The ghosts I once knew resigned,
flew away disguised as sewer fumes
and erased their radio knob
turning fingerprints from
every door handle.
I went on with cleaning the bathroom,
and pain shot up my calves,
like deck boards snapped by
falling anvils.
I went for the pen, as always,
after I put medicine on my dog's tail,
older pup...if you must know

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. She chirps down coffee while scrawling lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has recently appeared at In Between Hangovers, Apricity Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review.
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