Jantzen Beach


I am Tonya Harding
before she invented rollerskates.
When she can’t find a thing worth buying,
I look for twice as long.

You are not my husband. Your arms
blunt their violence in performance fleece
and do not swing a bat of any kind.

You might be a Neon streaking
doughnuts in the slush
of a parking lot I’m afraid to cross.
You might be a sweepstakes to Maui.

Let’s say my heart is a birthday cake
stuffed in your glove box,

that you’re a barista
unconvinced by Christmas
and guilty of less than love.

Let’s go to Sears. Touch
the scarves, smell the soap,
get away with it. Let’s shack up

in a bathroom and sit cross-legged
on the sink, steal sugar packets

from your coffee stand
and suck Sweet ‘n’ Low straight
from the pink.

[Photo credit: Heather Malcolm]

Kate Lebo is a poet and pie maker from Seattle, where she attends the University of Washington’s MFA program. Her poems have appeared most recently in Poetry Northwest and Crab Creek Review, and she’s the recipient of a Nelson Bentley Fellowship, a 4Culture grant, and a Soapstone residency. For more about Kate’s zine, A Commonplace Book of Pie, and other tasty treats, visit Good Egg: goodeggseattle.blogspot.com