Elle Heedles
Pesticide
My high school crush
is putting out fires
in his vineyards.
It’s too late for that—
the bees have made us
their enemies. Some poets
still remember the way
things used to be
before we were attractive.
In photographs,
my yellow bucked teeth
ruin everything.
There are no songs about me,
just resonant buzzing
caught in someone’s throat.
In my head
there are honeybees
all year round,
but who will remember
such small ghosts?
This was my reward
for living, given up
when I took a knee
so I could be romantic.
I feel sorry for everyone
who married their first
love, who’ll never know
the fuzzy sadness
of knowing too much.
We need to be stopped.
Gel Pens
To determine a full moon,
look at it from far away.
The ink in my pen is gold
and made of stars and walnuts.
My doctor says my womb is no good,
and will remove it with vinegar.
I hope it is fast, like the moon,
and painless. Afterwards,
I will work a nightshift.
Do you know what this pen
has in common with a Hello Kitty
bandaid? Everything could be better.
I go through one pen a day,
all at once. The hours drive by,
I can’t see a thing,
and when I touch my face
it’s all over me, new cancer
like pretty girl freckles.
Elle Heedles was born in Vienna, Austria to American parents, and received a BA in English Literature from the University of Edinburgh. Their poems have appeared in Pain, The Inkwell, the anthology Luminous, defiant, and others, and are forthcoming in the Northwest Review. Their work has been shortlisted for the Lewis Edwards Memorial Prize and the Wrolstad Contemporary Poetry Series. They are currently based in Vienna.