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‘Boys’ and other poems by Abigail Kipp

By: Abigail Kipp


Loneliness is a worm
gnawing at my gut,
so I cling to boys
who don’t care
(flowers promised but never given).
It wiggles its way through me
so I can’t ignore it
making me cry.

Loneliness is a new housemate
I’m still getting used to
so I reach out to boys
who don’t try
(dates at the Supermarket).
To talk on the phone
about how loneliness
leaves towels on the floor
and dishes in the sink,
but I am talking to dial tone.

Loneliness is a best friend
who is always there
with a helping hand
and a grip on my chest,
so I grasp at boys
who look but don’t see
(stood up at his house).
It curls up with me
when I am consumed.


A Queen

She is complex
in her simplicity.
A simple word
with hidden meanings.
A flip of her hair
to show her discontent.
A radiant beauty
of plain proportions.
Brown hair that
cascades nowhere
Darting coal eyes.
Lavender soft skin.

She is complex,
Able to read anything
speaks four languages
knows enough about everything
to seem smart
a puzzle
with 3 to 1000 pieces
all in white.
Or a hole to
somewhere dark
and cold but
at least
it’s somewhere new.

She is simple.
Easy to please.
All she wants
is honesty
which is the hardest thing.
She laughs at all.
Smiles at nothing.
She is complex
in her simplicity.
And that is why
No one loves her.


September 29, 2018

Brittle paper
changing hands

Smoky lace
swirling in air

Unanswered messages
of sorrow

New love as first
but never the first

Sleeping in dreams
of spiraling contemplation

Lazy canaries
on storm cloud horizons

Hour glass sand stress
slipping through brown hair

Oral fixation
of cracked lips

Thoughts that go



Little white pills
swirl in black printer ink
how to balance,
with hiding behind
paper walls.
how do I say?
I’m sick
Without saying help me?
The realization that
candor is melodrama.

I’m sick. I was abused.
I was raped.
Sounds like a broken vase
hitting the floor
again and again,
till I can no
longer hear the screaming.
How do I tell
a stone reader
how he held me down
as I scratched red stripes
down his cheek.
Without sounding like I’m
cosplaying a Gorgon?

I am sick
means nothing,
like sun light.
it is fluorescent light
behind sealed doors.
How can I see
what is always there
a buddy held close.
always there
so you end
up relaying on it.



There is a darkness inside me
and I sit in the middle of it.
It starts at my heart
and bleeds out
like vines.
Dark green leaves
litter the trees
soon to be forgotten.
Decay on the floor
of my chest
makes me sick,
so I cry navy.
It eats my lungs
leaving holes
like worms
in apples.
I hiccup pine needles
so brown
they fall apart
at fingers glance.
Red streaks the edges
like a lost bird
in madness.
Creating spiraling circles
of absent thought.
There is a darkness
Inside me
Little light penetrates.


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