ISSN 1551-8086
return to home search for a contributing writer

seach for poems by title

archive of previous issues submissions information mailing list online store links to other interesting sites contact us  
  May 2005
volume 3 number 2
-table of contents-
 
  home   (archived)
 
  contributing poets
  Aurora Antonovic
  Tom Berman
  Cristogianni Borsella
  Dana Campbell
  Tobi Cogswell
  Peggy Dobreer
  Francisco Dominguez
  Marvin Dorsey
  Melissa Fischer
  Steve Goldman
  Melanie Gonzalez
  Wendy Grosskopf
  Debashish Haar
  Matt Harris
  Paula Sfier Kattan
  Marie Lecrivain
  Laura A. Lionello
  Harold Lorin
  Christopher Mulrooney
  Dave Nordling
  Aire Celeste Norell
  Angel Perales
  Catherine Rajca
  Cat Risinger
  Ariel Robello
  Kate Soto
  Clee Villasor
 
  home
  poets
  poems
  archive
  submissions
  mailing list
  store
  links
  contact
   
Laura A. Lionello
May 2005
   

 

bio


    Laura A. Lionello now lives in her hometown of Chicago, but she strangely misses Santa Monica. Actually, she missed you. Her poetry has been published in A Galaxy of Verse, Anthology, Celebration, Matrix (Germany), everything about you is beautiful, green room confessionals, Penumbra, Portland Review, The Blue House, Threshold, and others. In addition to being the poetry editor for poeticdiversity, Laura is a freelance writer and editor for a series of publishers and individuals.

laura@lionrealm.com

   

 

Parking Structure 4, Santa Monica

Parking Structure 4, Santa Monica

is all slant and piss.


The residue of rubber, the hot


house scrapes of yellow and red paint


pout like pretty girls alone in a bar with music.


The matte string of paper dolls without


digit appendages


just mustard arms and legs


stand at attention like a mother,


fertile and proud.





This whole place was built to be


forgotten the moment you pay


for the privilege of leaving.





Concrete is golden


height and width in perfect proportion,


worshipping each other


in the way the fluorescents wash the walls


of the elevator.


It slides itself


translucent


under the gums—


desire like plaque,


undetectable until irreversible.





At the top the air clears.


Georgian Hotel, rooftop first and then the rest—


the nativity and even Venice—


grow into sunset and pier.


Pacific like an infection seems to say,


I’m like you, only beautiful.

copyright 2004 Laura A. Lionello