 poetry FIRST LOVE by Jennifer Elizabeth Saunders Your blue hair hung long over your left eye 120 pounds soaking wet a boy caught between wanting rebellion and needing conformity your nose too big for your face and teeth jagged like the blade of a buck saw Glowing in the dark we shook with anticipation expectation your touch emitted sparks torched my virgin hair red hot and burning flesh your long limbs wrapped around mine legs, arms, tongues intertwined body fluids exchanged innocence broken like my hymen The air smelled like cold wind gasoline campfires smoldering flesh your eyes great big green orbs glowed in the dark you kept looking at me with those huge eyes too big for your face I remember the jut of your hips and your Smashing Pumpkins Zero T-Shirt used to be black washed too many times by your mom your shirt doused in Sunlight detergent CK One sweat these scents mingled like fresh air on your soft flesh alive in my nostrils We fucked in a treehouse you found in the woods I got splinters in my ass and your blue hair hung long over your left eye
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THE FOG by Jennifer Elizabeth Saunders I still have memories shock me into wakefulness zapping my brain penetrating the thick gooey grey matter when I want to sleep slip into a dreamless slumber void of colour A heavy fog stalks me instead vague and foreboding swirling mass of nothingness enveloping everything Just want to forget but these memories begin at the ground and encircle me not with warmth— with fear creeping, climbing, twisting like tendrils of ivy reaching up the side of a red brick wall curling at the top like too-long fingernails over the top of fingertips I remember you got mad when I left the empty peanut butter jar on the kitchen counter your screams cut the fog and zinged my brain firing synapses like a clip of machine gun fire I didn't know your mother had destroyed you decapitated you in utero I didn't know you were headless before you were born no grey matter left to even zap I couldn't understand why you were so mad over an empty peanut butter jar sitting unthreatening atop the squeaky clean kitchen counter so shiny I could see my face frozen mouth ajar in its reflective surface
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Jennifer Elizabeth Saunders hails from Central Newfoundland, Canada. She has been a poet since the age of 8, and derives inspiration from the beautiful chaos she sees in the world around her. She is the mother of two, a self- proclaimed punk rock princess and a connoisseur of beat culture. Her literary idols include Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson and the Beat Generation writers. She is eternally stuck in the 90's with a 1940's flair and can be reached at jennifer_elizabeth_saunders@hotmail.com. This is her first publication in a literary magazine.
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