Poetry by Stephanie Athena Valente

IMMACULATA

what if we were the saints all along?
what if we were holy and sacred?

TEXTING IN POSITANO

we can take several honeymoons 

my best friend is the goddess of water

my dreams did this me: 
i woke up thinking i was a she-wolf, 
to the enjoyment of an audience

he has his own late, late, late show with oranges
i am the lemon baroness, tart, sour, overripe

i think girls in stockings are involved… add it to the bottom

i don’t see why she wouldn’t keep us onboard,

i am this cathedral
i am saints and mourning

we are lost things, 
kiss this stone

ghosts always come home. are you on your way?

TONGUE

use it to pray
to dead saints,
never living ones,
careful hands,
lemon, 
oil, 
marble,
spiked, tender
no lies,
rosemary,
petals,
milky lips,
use it,
orange,
dusk, with
cherry ices,
after 
confession,
a rosary,
an ankle
turning,
thousand year
old, steps
don’t eat 
the oranges,
cast a spell
with it,
pulpy, dry
and wet
all over
salivating, saints
don’t often
answer, they
act in 
shadows.