Another Love Song Released in 2019

A poem by Kara Lewis

Image of the back of a woman with long hair and a dress, her arms raised as if conducting the collage of instruments in red and white lights glowing in front of her.

features a metronome to tick us to our sequined end / I asked How / can I keep the beat when the forests are burning / like a dance floor where the strobe lights never sleep? / And Taylor Swift said to find the green / somewhere in your eyes / How can I drink enough / when every day feels like being drunk? / There’s an involuntary dance move I do / every time a white man reaches a hand into his pocket / Kesha swore if I put my hand in your back pocket / I might find faith / or justice / But I only came up with glitter and cocaine / gritty constellations caught in the half moons of my fingernails / Baby tonight it feels like I could stick my fingers / so far and so sharp into your cheek / you start speaking another language / and I wear your DNA / like a wedding band / We’ll commemorate the occasion with a balloon animal mobile / birthed from glow-in-the-dark condoms / because sex is the only thing that hasn’t gone extinct / Make mine a unicorn / wearing a miniskirt and stilettos / a sexy unicorn / like Katy Perry / When I release any orb of love into the sky / it’s too easy to envision it in a landfill / This feels anything but biodegradable / Tonight we dance down a potholed street / and I uncover / a crumpled ten bucks from my bra / just to hold a homeless woman’s hand / and hear her say Thank you baby you’re so beautiful / If I squint she looks just like another strung-out girl in the crowded bar bathroom / dabbing my tears with paper towels / she looks like another balloon / floating / flesh pink in the street lights / If I kiss you maybe I’ll suck your helium / into my lungs and sing / three octaves higher / until I’m not sure / if I’m crying or laughing / until not everything has to be / so fucking serious / put my slurred shrieking on your Snapchat story / caption it with SOUND ON //

Kara Lewis is a poet, editor, and writer who lives in Kansas City, Missouri. Her poems have appeared in Stirring, Plainsongs, Sprung Formal, Boston Accent Lit, and elsewhere. She is a recipient of the John Mark Eberhart Memorial Award for a collection of poetry, as well as a weekly contributor to the Read Poetry blog. When she’s not writing, she can be found advocating for reproductive rights, vintage shopping, and wandering museums. You can follow her on Twitter @kararaywrites for poems, politics, and Gilmore Girls gifs.

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