Two Poems by Abigale Louise LeCavalier

WATERPROOF MASCARA

The angels
of my nightmares
bring no comfort,
the sounding of trumpets
rests not this soul.

“hope springs eternal”

I only see cracks
where water once rippled,
touched by God,
maybe one time
too many.

And the dream is never ending,
the soundtrack superficial.

There is anger in their faces;
pursed lips and crooked smiles,
a sword gleams with holy flame.

These are the angels
of my nightmares;
lacking empathy
where this rose grows.

Growling,
uprooting,
and blood pools
in the corner of my eye,
smudging my waterproof mascara.

***

AND. OR. BUT.

Harsh words
only hold meaning
when someone is listening.

I listen a lot.

Fostering frustration
and the heat
of anxiety,
when adjectives and verbs impale me.

I consider myself a noun.

Not the appropriate
inappropriate pronoun.

Nor a conjunction,
And.
Or.
But.

It’s important to me;
knowing where I stand.

Even if it puts me
in the corner
I expertly
painted myself into.