Jennifer Lagier- Three Poems

Recovering Catholic

 

I watched my mother, grandmother,

and great-grandmother

willingly crucify themselves

because they believed heaven

would reimburse them

for their day-to-day hells.

They obeyed without question,

passively turned the other cheek,

believed misogynist mumbo-jumbo,

died without having lives,

bought a crock of Vatican shit.

 

I’m tired of being a

good Italian Catholic,

raised on cautionary tales

of sacrificed martyrs,

denial and guilt.

I cut my teeth on torturous

stations of the cross,

spent Saturdays in catechism,

Sundays at mass.

Now I’m ready for thou shall,

want to break rules,

blow off responsibility,

sleep past noon,

stand naked in front

of the picture window,

shake my tits at the postman,

drink tequila shots on a Monday,

drop acid, experiment with mushrooms,

carelessly fuck a succession of strangers,

come loudly and often

without a single regret.

 

Originally published in the Clark Street Review.

 

 

 

Next Ex-Husband Interviews

 

Camille hands out maps and smiles

at the Concours d’Elegance

in Pebble Beach.

She has stationed herself

between two Rolls Royces,

near the Porsche Pavilion,

where the richer boys roam.

 

Older trophy wives,

now gone to menopause,

glare as she flirts with their men.

Camille could have her pick

of international millionaires,

celebrity movie stars, local players.

As they examine each sleek, classic model,

she adjusts her tight tee shirt, licks her wet lips.

 

 

 

Bohemian Rhapsody

 

Fuck assignments.

Fuck deadlines.

Fuck a day reading Bukowski.

You’ve already done

down and drunk

with three former husbands,

prefer to imagine Henry Miller

playing ping pong

with a naked blonde

beneath giant redwoods.

What you crave is to

break every rule,

be flamboyantly alive,

wild in Big Sur,

an Indian Summer afternoon

hanging out on a deck

sipping peach blinis.

You slide into goddess pants,

strap on bohemian sandals,

a sparkling tiara,

drive Highway 1 south

past chill fog

till you get to Nepenthe.

Stellar jays jeer as you flirt,

find a likely companion.

Your hand on his thigh

brings a smile and erection.

Sunshine and champagne

loosen lips and loins.

You enjoy this new story.

 

 

 

Jennifer Lagier enjoys leading snakes astray at various watering holes from Carmel Valley to the depths of Big Sur.