Poisoned Apples Read online

  Health Class

  Mrs. Greco normally taught Physical Education,

  which we weren’t allowed to call Gym—“Jim is

  somebody’s uncle.”

  And, “Please keep your periods in Language Arts, ladies.

  In this class we will discuss your menstrual cycles.”

  And, “Unless you all suddenly sprout feathers,

  we will say ova, not eggs.”

  After the video about fertilization,

  Rachel Zindler asks if what her cousin said

  is true, that some super sperm

  can swim right through condoms.

  Mrs. Greco says, “I’m sorry, Rachel,

  the school board does not allow us to cover

  prophylactics.”

  Then Courtney Clark asks

  how to tell if she is in love.

  “At your age, ladies, the proper term

  is infatuation.”

  We lean forward and wait

  for her to explain the difference.

  She tells us

  to take out our textbooks

  and read silently for the rest of the

  period.

  Art TK

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  Ugly Stepsister

  Often since the ball, when the house is draped

  in sleep, I put on my robe and slippers, shuffle

  past the wardrobe crammed with slack gowns,

  past the door to the empty attic,

  down to the kitchen, where the mice linger

  just long enough to decide I am still not the one

  they love. No one cares if I finish off the whole leg

  of lamb, the last of the pumpkin pie.

  And if I sit there dreaming until morning,

  the new girl Mama hired will come in

  to ask if I want tea, her soot-stained face

  a perfect mask of concern.

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  Transformation

  In my fantasy he is never a prince, vanilla pale

  and trim, but a swarthy frog, all bulging muscle,

  asking nothing more

  than to eat from my plate

  and sleep pooled together on my bed,

  where now, alone, I ripple the sheets,

  slide my fingers down

  into the cool water and imagine

  him there, retrieving my golden ball

  again and again and again.

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  Boy Toy Villanelle

  G.I. Joe comes with a sword and Kung Fu Grip.

  When Spider-Man shoots his webs, villains, beware!

  Pony Princess Cadance has a brush, a pretty mane to style and flip.

  No saddle? No bridle? For $16.99? What a gyp.

  “Today’s my wedding day!” squeals Cadance. Spidey, beware!

  G.I. Joe comes with a sword and Kung Fu Grip;

  he loves to hold a brush, style his friends’ beards with fancy clips.

  In his hooded spandex tux (sold separately), the groom looks so debonair.

  Pony Princess Cadance has a brush, a pretty mane to style and flip,

  and if she could pretty-please borrow Joe’s sword, she could rip

  down all those ugly webs in hubby’s den, give the space some sparkle flair.

  G.I. Joe comes with a sword and Kung Fu Grip,

  which he pawns to open his salon—Action Hero Curl ’N’ Clip.

  Dreaming of villains, Spidey wakes up web-tied to his chair!

  Pony Princess Cadance has a brush, a pretty mane to style and flip

  and a Spider-Cycle she rides away at a fast clip.

  Pony Princess Cadance comes with a sword and Kung Fu Grip.

  G.I. Joe has a brush, pretty manes to style and flip.

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  Rapunzel

  How foolish I was to believe that

  crooning my name from below meant something

  more than pressing an elevator button.

  They all want to feel themselves rising

  higher. They all want the girl in the tower

  to pour herself into their hands.

  Who’s to say that, given a chance

  at lower altitude, I would be different

  from the rest?

  Today will be the day I refuse

  to lift my head from this damp pillow,

  far away from the comb and the brush and the pleading

  bodies always luring me down.

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  Art TK

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  Light as a Feather,

  Stiff as a Board

  There was already enough dark magic

  at those slumber parties. Still we played

  the game: You are riding the bus

  or You are crossing the street

  or You are walking through the park,

  and then

  the brakes failed,

  the lightning struck,

  Your killer drags you down into the leaves. . . .

  My friends chanted and slipped

  a few fingers under my corpse.

  If the spell worked, my soul was gone;

  I was light as a feather, stiff as a board,

  drifting high above their heads.

  If not, they laughed and dropped me.

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  Nature Lesson

  The dress code says

  we must cover ourselves

  in

  ample pants,

  skirts that reach well below

  our lascivious knees,

  polos buttoned over

  the rim of the canyon,

  a glimpse of which can send a boy

  plunging to such depths

  he may never climb back up

  to algebra.

  We say

  that if a hiker strays

  off the path, trips, and

  winds up crippled,

  is it really

  the canyon’s fault?

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  Red-handed

  At the Once Upon a Time Shop,

  they make me check my basket,

  but who cares. I have plenty of room

  under my cape, a six-pack wedged against

  the elastic of my gingham bikini briefs.

  I buy a Get Well card for Granny,

  smiling sweetly at the clerk who thinks

  he’s being cute when he hands me

  the bag and says, “All the better to

  receipt you with, my dear!”

  Wolfie’s waiting at our usual spot

  with cigarettes. I pull out the goodies,

  and the drunker we get, the more I want to

  dig my nails into his pelt like

  I’m going to scratch his belly, but not stop

  there.

  “Why, Wolfie, what a big . . .”

  If that woodsman shows up now,

 
I will totally kick his ass.

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  Finders, Keepers

  It’s not a glove left on the subway,

  keys gone AWOL under the couch.

  No billboard clamors, Has anyone seen

  this missing virginity?

  There has to be a better way

  to say it.

  Finding your sexuality?

  Not so much.

  Becoming a woman?

  Next!

  Keeping

  your sense of humor?

  Your dignity?

  Your legs from shaking,

  your teeth from chattering,

  your bracelet from snagging in his hair?

  Keeping your head

  on his chest afterward and knowing

  that crazy drum solo is playing

  just for you.

  Yeah.

  That was definitely my favorite part.

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  Gingerbread

  I knew I had to get out of there

  before the icing cracked and they discovered

  that I’m burnt around the edges,

  doughy in the center,

  that what they thought was sugar

  is salt.

  If I was a good girl,

  if I could satisfy their cravings,

  if every dream in my misshapen head

  didn’t bite, I might have stayed at the table.

  Wouldn’t you run, too,

  from such voracious love?

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  What She Heard the Waitress Say

  Hi, my name is Stacy! Our soup of the day is souper

  yummy, ha-ha! It’s beercheesebeanbroccolibacon.

  We have two specials tonight—the crab cakes

  with hollandaise, which are, like, amazing, and the buttermilk

  chicken-fried steak, which is the best thing Chef Brandon

  has ever made. I could eat it for every meal, but that’s me,

  I’m naturally skinny and cute and not grossing out everyone

  in the dining room! Should I see if Dwayne from the stockroom

  will be around later to lift you out of that booth with a forklift?

  I’ll give you a minute to decide!

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  Going Under

  No lifeguard on duty, and she is not at all safe

  on her towel, watching the other girls bodysurf.

  Her friends have no clue about the tentacles churning

  close to the surface, eager to pull her under

  if she so much as dips in a toe.

  Okay,

  one

  toe.

  All of a sudden she’s up to her ankles

  in wrappers, up to her shins, her waist, her thin

  bikini strings, up to no good as the tide turns

  away, disgusted, and wave after greasy wave

  crashes past her salt-blistered lips.

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  Life Among the Swans

  True, no one teases me now. My new friends

  and I, we don’t talk much at all, really.

  It’s hard to make conversation

  while we’re gliding back and forth across

  the mirror, bowing to our majesty.

  For a thrill I like to shut my eyes and pretend

  I never left the reeds where I waited

  out that ugly winter, survived the plain

  brown autumn watching the hunter’s hounds

  charge past me on their way to prettier game.

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  Big Bad Spa Treatment

  You are the most important ingredient in this scrumptious day of pampering!

  First our expert staff will tenderize those tired muscles with our patented deep-tissue Massage Mallets, leaving you loose and

  gristle-free. Next, you’ll soak for at least two, preferably four to eight, hours

  in a tub filled with our world-famous Aromatic Marinade & Moisturizer

  made from the finest extra-virgin olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, and just a hint of

  cayenne to give you that all-over spicy glow. Could your Big Bad day be any yummier?

  You bet! Whether your complexion is dry, oily, or combination, our honey

  barbecue facial mask will leave skin youthful, pink, succulent, delectable, and omigod . . .

  Sorry. As we were saying, we apply the mask while you soak, and the best part

  is, there’s no need to rinse it off! It absorbs directly into your pores to seal in

  the juices. From the tub, it’s mere steps back to our Ergonomic Butcher’s Block

  Massage Table for a sea salt and black pepper rub, though we might throw in

  a few bay leaves if we’re in the mood, and you know we are. After that, all you have left

  to do is lie back and relax in our sauna, always set at a therapeutically optimal

  400 degrees. Close your eyes. Feel the heat deep in your bones. We’ll come and get you

  when you’re done.

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  Human Centipede Two

  for Alexia

  is even grosser than

  Human Centipede One,

  my friend tells me

  frequently

  during third-period lunch

  as I lift the bun to blot suspicious fluid

  from Wednesday’s burger

  or Thursday’s Sloppy Joe.

  In the first movie the villain is a surgeon.

  In the second he’s just a guy with

  a staple gun,

  dirty knives to sever tendons,

  and laxatives.

  My friend lines up twelve chubby

  Goldfish crackers tail-to-head to represent

  the victims.

  Did I know that most of the sound effects

  were made with cuts of raw meat?

  That at the premiere they put barf bags

  on all the seats and stationed an ambulance

  outside the theater for a joke, but then

  a woman ended up needing it?

  It’s a mark of good horror,

  my friend read online,

  when it turns your own body against you.

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  Spotless

  Every edge and surface

  in my darlings’ cozy cottage

  must be better than perfect.

  So I whet one razor

  after another against the stony

  flesh of my leg until in barely

  any time at all I have seven sharp

  lines

  as deep as the silence of my days,

  as straight as the path I ran from

  the huntsman,

  as red as those three drops

  for which my mother named me,

  or so the story goes.

  They say she pricked her finger

  patching a hole in my father’s ro
be.

  Dangling her hand from the window,

  she thought her own blood on the snow

  was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.

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  The Beast

  Shut behind these walls only the two of us

  can see the loathsome creature I am now—

  in truth, have always been.

  Every night the sumptuous spread,

  me at the head of the table, when I really

  belong on the floor, begging for scraps.

  Every night the harpsichord sings

  the same cruel song about love

  breaking the spell,

  the skimpy rose sheds another petal,

  and my kind companion gazes at me

  as if I am not a monster in silk and lace.

  Every night the same question,

  the same answer, the same stumbling

  from the room while he howls

  the lie that has always been my name.

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  Art TK

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