Laura Hoffman – three poems

Cotton Ghosts

we were more loaded
than cotton gins
on that airless
southern night
beside a fire
in a wheelbarrow

he forgot where
I was visiting from
but this time I didn’t
even give a shit

off the dirt road
in a thin bed
of pine needles
pale lips twitched
eyes found mine

he staggered off
to vomit in the woods

leaving me empty on my back

pine needles sticking
to my legs
I was still

thinking about cotton


The Wasp

your big
Roman nose
always
touched me first
before your lips
and your Marlboro Red tongue

its suntanned tip
pinioned my cheek
with all the frenzy
of the wasp that watched us-
buzzing

from between
glass & blind
escaped love


Stone Fruit

the flesh of our marriage
is rotting away;
a forgotten plum
that has come to reek
in defiant, purple fury.

I’ve already opened
my soft legs
for sweeter harvest,
but still
the plum sits
in a Pyrex bowl
by the stove

so I wait,

for the decaying pulp to part
and give its pit away


Laura Hoffman is a United States Marine Corps veteran currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in English at The University of North Florida. Hoffman’s work is forthcoming or appears in: Bop Dead City, Twisted Sister Lit Mag, and The Bangalore Review. When she is not studying or writing, Hoffman enjoys spending time with her son Nathan, and performing improvised comedy.

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