unwelcome presence, ancient, misogyny
unwelcome presence, ancient, misogynythis is the part in which everyone joins the parade
why is it so easy to imagine
cassandra, a woman screaming
facts & data, marching about science
trying to save her people before
it’s too late, she has become
they, us
she tries to call, says he is outside, says
women are always the lowest of the low,
can you hear me, is this on mute, she
taps her phone, points it at him
stolen, dragged from her reverie
murdered by another’s
(lover) sexual partner,
she not once pleaded for
bunches of tulips, for a rabid phone call, a drunken guilt-ridden
text, she did not ask to fight or for
special gifts that could turn into
her hair, knotted, nude
full of magnetic accoutrements
he disagrees & that is final, gets the belt out
he has never heard this part before
the epitome of man
furious, refused,
wanton, his eyes
covered, his ears full of cotton,
grave windows
smoke from long cigarettes craves a new tattoo
(unbroken) ghosted by some dismissive(moon) again
her texts butterfly one- shoulder sided
ecstatic commentary regarding absent
weathers
;he would never say;
suburban traffic planetary malls alien
packages stolen straight say
breast out of mailbox
;talk different when others are;
she tells it the way the dragonflies
say don’t go back arthritic leg it is (
w/dolls) going backwards & her
moonshadow replies
sunset
just that blue red cheatgrass
undried are there no wildfires in
this world
smoke from long cigarettes
are about changes
him
her eyes
dimming
; blocking / unblocking ;
about money situations
laced cilantro in fried
potatoes
& he says something else
random says
everyone can be bought
take it don’t say anything
just don’t say anything ;
afraid his cover will be
blown;
build yourself up girl,
woman, lady, light,
old one,
faded heart on hip just above the bikini
line an old dead lover
but it burns, mother
& narcissistic water alkalinity sanity fragility
won’t shut off
build up your own light build up your
own light
———–
of course Apollo loved Cassandra
she wore flipflops & crimson
painted toenails
true, he cursed her, could not catch her ankle, twisted
his gift, made her pay & she felt guilty for everything
he did of course notes she wrote as she was thinking
about dating him:
I.
cursed her vagina {he will never see}
swore by
II.
never seen to be
& won’t say vagina !
III.
condensing condescending
periods
dreaming demeaning
bleeding no one speaks for
her depo
—————
liar & madwoman (psycho) who is
what, she continues to list…
in this story, she has all the religions, she
runs them, daughters join in groups of 12,
discuss peaceful ways to fix the world,
unafraid, collect tithes, feed poor, saunter in,
hands him his paycheck, smiles, raises him
up
I.
he texts back
before it
becomes a wall
II.
he fell (a turtle wrapped up) in
emotion completely & pulled a
butterfly curse
III.
one of them admitted to being
(afraid of the wind from
the coulee the fires the
weather the world) of
gaslighting
——–windows for good luck elephants
getting back
I bet his eyes are a gorgeous cerulean
she can see herself again & look beryl
if he wears green cotton if she looks
at what she wrote
permanently pure he laughs
unbalanced at her/at the relationship
response/as they take troy
beautiful intimate prophecy
intuition undermined
muted control
all the women, jealous
want to be her believe
him
shout misogyny sing off
key criticism double texted
emotion bombing isolation
boundaries minimized
interactions
kept a journal
Art Works by Vikki C.
1. Vintage
2. Trellis
3. Sobriety
Constance Bacchus currently lives with her daughter in the Columbia Basin of Washington state. Last year she worked for the census during wildfire season and this year she is in the library. Her poetry can be found in various literary journals including Feral, Selcouth Station, Cirque Journal, Dreich Broad Review, Permafrost Journal, Blue River Review and Salmon Creek Journal. Her newest book is divorcing flowers (Alien Buddha Press, 2021) although she does have others including Secret Dam Things. Twitter: @bconnie509
Vikki C. is a London-born writer, artist, musician and author of ‘The Art of Glass Houses’ (Alien Buddha Press) and ‘Where Sands Run Finest’ (DarkWinter Press). Her writing is widely published across US, Canada, UK and Europe and has been nominated for ‘The Pushcart Prize’, ‘Best of the Net’ and the ‘Orison Best Spiritual Literature’.
Vikki’s poetry and prose appear or are forthcoming in venues such as The Inflectionist Review, Psaltery & Lyre, EcoTheo Review, Amethyst Review, Emerge Literary Journal, Grain Magazine, Feral: A Journal of Poetry and Art, Sweet Literary, Harpy Hybrid Review, Cable Street, Stone Circle Review, Barren Magazine, Ballast Journal, New Verse Review, Sublunary Review, Dust Poetry Magazine, One Hand Clapping, Ice Floe Press, The Belfast Review, New Feathers Anthology, Boats Against The Current, ONE ART Poetry, The Hyacinth Review, Black Bough Poetry, DarkWinter Lit, Acropolis Journal, The Broken Spine, Lazuli Literary, Vita & the Woolf, The Winged Moon, Literary Revelations, Ellipsis Zine, Across The Margin, Ellipsis Zine, among others.
Her writing and voice have been featured in various podcasts and audio collaborations which showcase her music and spoken-word craft.
Links and socials: linktr.ee/vikki_c._author, X: @VWC_Writes, Bluesky: @vikkicwrites.bsky.social, Soundcloud: VIkki C. Music
IceFloe Press 