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"Last Shot Down" by Paige Johnson

My palms sweat on the bottle of Bacardi,

But it’s claustrophobia of my phone,

Not the temperature of the room

That my fingers cry for

and from.


No celebratory sips will be had at home,

Because I spent last night in too many beds

Nothing became of my pillow-wallowing,

The honeyed-eyed dream-hopping,

But that’s the

fucking problem.


My chest caves in at the checkout.

An emerald rectangle incoming,

Vicious in its flatness, its caution.

The same lukewarm rejection text,

But this time from a girl, someone

Who knows my mania intimately—


Not just because we share private parts

Shaved into something soft and sortable,

Diagnoses overwriting school history,

But even the same lovers we scorched

With aloofness, then a petulant, biting need,

Swapping exes’ exes, a couple of “ironic Tic-Tac-hoes”

Lowercase in all but loneliness, insomni-addic crushing.

I busted it, faltered at the fault lines,

Underlined my cheeks and care in red,

Slipped it under my tongue like the runny gel tabs,

Sunshine side-up with slush stashed up my nose,

Pretending I’m prepared for the strange weather.


Ha-ha-haing my advances, you wore a halo

But it warbled under the steam of your brow.

I wanted in on your heatwave, a cap for the storm

But when we baby-stepped into the midnight shower,

Fingers lily-locked, you were waving me away with a smile.


I wandered down a gravel road, feeling every pinch of the earth,

Each breathy gust of Mother Nature slamming into my breastbone.

It’s bare-tooth anger that carried me along, that self-same shame,

The velocity of my inaction, my miscalculation of a girl’s affection

That only ached to ensnare and ingest the contents of my purse.


La-La-Lipstick, melting chocolates, Oriental coins, and smelling salts—

They all hold more promise than a same-sex, revenge-bound relapse.

I knew that in the moment, but

fixated upon the car

Carrying a curlicue cheater into

your driveway


I’d cut his break

lines before I begrudged

you


Instead, I admired the smoothness of your budding horns,

The silverthorne-sharp sparkle in your creeping simper.

Forever, I’ll recall the blinding pale pink of your hips,

Crossed legs tapered into a V, nothing short of a Venus

de Urbino in denim cut-offs and the throes of an Ativan

Diet since the car accident no one died but a rutting wolf.


These things happen,

So said the paramedic


The blood splatters on your bathroom tiles

Looked more art-novena than ominous,

A Rorschach test for star-crossed lovers


It can’t be helped,

So says my psychiatrist


What I remember most is the roughness of your blankets,

How closely we swaddled ourselves

Apart, two Calla petals,

Lethal only to those with claws

My vines tickling the back of your neck

The dewy tenderness of your brush-off

Then the black of the dirt.




Paige Johnson is editor-in-chief of Outcast Press, a transgressive fiction outlet with the short story collection In Filth It Shall Be Found out now and her debut, drug- and love-fueled poetry collection, '21 & Over, on the way. Find her at @KettyKat8 on Twitter, @OutcastPress on Instagram.


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