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Stephanie Athena Valente

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Lovers in Alchemy

drip me in quartz,
powder my lips
purple swollen, i ate the bees,
there was nothing left alive

tinged eyelashes
her skin, dripping
pretending to be translucent.

we’re gamine, thinking about
the humanity, not thinking about humanity
sipping, slipping polished stones
like royal honey, like truth

into diamond pots,
we’re listening nymphs, nymph
i’ll glisten you in lace, i’ll seethe
at you, over her man’s shoulder,
perched legs and all

wild haired,
counted her ribs at nightfall,
blueberry chills sweat in bed,
rubies under a pillow,

secret cosmos by the stones, with her
long torso,
i mimic the syrup voice, in a dream
i paint you gold, i’ll tuck, keep

leftover mythologies, under our tongues.

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The Problem With Ghosts

Loving one is easy, but you shouldn’t –
The missed phone calls, the blood in the mirror
It’s all dramatics, a fight that finishes with static
Invisible hands that rub my neck in the middle
Of a blue moon night, they’ll riddle you forever
Promises that sound better than flesh, if you dare,
Just take my name and wear my crown, they’ll say.
Sooner or later, the story replays itself –
Red and dead, holding your breath in a bathtub
Ghosts peel through the wallpaper, singing broken records
Your hair greys, but you won’t wake up again. They will.
You’ll feel powerful, but not forever.

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Stephanie Athena Valente lives in Brooklyn, NY. Her published works include Hotel Ghost, waiting for the end of the world, and Little Fang (Bottlecap Press, 2015-2019). She has work included in Reality Hands, TL;DR, and Cosmonauts Avenue. She is the associate editor at Yes, Poetry. Sometimes, she feels human. stephanievalente.com

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