Nicholas Barnes

better med

Escitalopram:
strike a lunar stance for me.
I hope you taste of lemon lime,
soda, and gumdrops.
Candy comatose
used to make us higher
than any drug we can find now
in liquor stores, dispensaries,
or pharmacopoeia indexes.
With any luck, you won’t
make me sick like too much
sugar on Halloween;
the morning after a battle
with a case of blended scotch;
a head full of demon thoughts.
Instead, free me like the helpless,
spinning critter you once caught
hanging from your ceiling:
trap me in a drinking glass
and carefully, sweetly,
set me down on the stairs.

Dolores

Skin drips:
an oil painting
on an August mourn.

I am Lola, with her
butterfly eyelashes,
brushing against
something you once knew
or willed into forgetting.

Pablo found me
in his dreams; I was
his sister tossing
and turning in a bed
unfamiliar to tired eyes.

El cielo
caught sunrise
like a kaleidoscope.

And foreign canvas sheen
covered my body,
sailing around my crown
with indigo wind
[complete me].

Dawn abridged
my musing,
stroking heaven
with a turquoise palette.

Diving into the day,
I hoped someone watching
would remember me in color.

Nicholas Barnes earned a Bachelor of Arts in English at Southern Oregon University. He is currently working as an editor in Portland and enjoys music, museums, movie theaters, and rain. His poems have recently been accepted by Bridge: The Bluffton University Literary Journal, Something Involving A Mailbox!, and BEATIFIC.

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