Denise R. Weuve

Ink Damage and Other Permanent Stains

Entering Chapbook Contest

Is it worth it?
It seems like all I see are $15 to enter and yes it is summer and money is not flowing in until October again, but it is not about the money. I waste money far too often, ridiculously. It’s the idea of working on putting together these poems into themes. I have a group of poems that I call the Sand Dune collection but they simply are not finished, so I was looking through my other poems and I’m just wreckage. They are all over the place. On different computers, written down and never transferred to the computer and on every possible sheet of paper created, including napkins, back of envelopes.
I spent the past two days trying to organize. I haven’t even got through a third of the work I have and that is going through only around 50 of them. Making adjustments, and putting them all into the same file. It may take me the full week just to get poems into a single file, not counting the bag I have of the hand written stuff.
There has been a plus, I have found a lot of work that I had seriously forgotten about. Some of them can be found on the Masterpieces page. But event that I do not have enough time to properly update.
So is it all worth it? I guess. I just lack patience, and wish it was all done already.
Oh well, it is worth it.
Here’s one of the poems I found, that I really like.

WHORE

she is doing it again
leaving behind
the needles,
her discarded lovers,
one after another,
a trail to her other
side, the side
that is not a mother.
the side that never
wanted to be a
mother.
her breast have
always been dry
empty sex toys
she displays
on merchant marine
ships like green cards
for the asian sailors.
she will sit in bars
for hours sending
watered down drinks
to men eating duck eggs.
the duckling ready
to hatch but boiled
just before the bill
could form.
It makes her ill
watching them peel
away the flesh
place the still closed
eyes on their tongues.
she forgives them all,
those mouths being
the ones she will kiss
for fifty dollars,
300 if she stays
the night.
her daughter will
figure this out soon
drop the needles
from the air
like chinese fortune
sticks that explain her fate.
then spend the night
with a georgian boy
ask for twenty dollars
knowing this is what
all women do
in smaller amounts.

first appeared in Genre

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