Her Vagina Looks Like by April Michelle Bratten

Her vagina looks like
a giant inflamed mushroom,
swollen and offensive,

or the greasy insides of a pumpkin,
the guts, sticky orange stuck
to walls of fleshy white.

Her vagina will never smell like
wet-sweet earth, no,
because it has large protrusions,
little heads peeking,
millions of mouths gabbing,
dribbling their pus.

Her vagina reeks like
bottom of dead foot,
a rotting, rotting,
old and haggard piece.

Fatty-fat, it still talks.

It tries to force open
from its swell,
that willing thing.

It puffs up, irritated
to scratch me like a rope
and berate my smooth.

Oh,
femme-monster,
I tell you, leave,
leave my hawk-eyes!
Leave me, leave me,

for you have turned stupid
and inconsolable.

No more of your stiff scratch,
I want the silk-silky majesty of your leave,

you awful tack!

Happy Birthday Leah by Melanie Browne

I don't think
we have anything
in common

the fact is,
I don't even
know who the
hell you are

but you must be
pretty special

You're so special
someone wrote
Happy Birthday Leah!
on the back of your
car with white shoe
polish,

It makes me want
to find a filthy
restroom
and hurl the rest of my
Big-Mac into the
nothingness

Leah I hate you so
much, I hope a bird shits
on your new
designer handbag

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Black-Listed Magazine is an online literary magazine. We publish on a rolling basis: weekly, daily, sometimes hourly. Send submissions here: blacklistedmagazine@hotmail.com