Poetry by
Misti Rainwater-Lites


A Cherry Tart & His Tongue in My Mouth

in the waking world i do not
know or desire him
but in the dream
i was giddy with possibilities

i told him i slept better
in his house
surrounded not by angels exactly
but a really good energy
i told him i could not sleep
in my house
because of all the ghosts
he laughed and said i had no reason to fear
spiritual wafers

i took a cherry tart from the fridge
and put it in my mouth
it was vivid red and it crumbled
on my tongue

then he pulled me into his arms
told me he had loved and wanted me
for so long
i quoted ginsberg
he said he loved ginsberg
grabbed my hair
and tasted the tart
i was still eating


smaller than the stones they cast

west memphis, arkansas is like any other small town
in small mind america
dreams aren’t worth much
what did poe know about making
a blue collar dollar
paying a mortgage
driving a truck
coaching a team
keeping the wife and kids in wal-mart clothing
keeping up appearances at church
on sundays and wednesdays
poe didn’t know shit
poe don’t hold water
in black and white
jesus vs. satan
deer hunting happy
havens of the illiterate and mediocre

west memphis, arkansas
is southern and proud
work hard
make babies
drink beer
fry fish
praise jesus
hate faggots
hate witches
hate outcasts
who don’t even try
to conform

believe or burn
our way or the highway
you can take your weird ass to new york or california

west memphis is all about the casting of stones
and the disposing of puzzles pieces that just
don’t fit
human lives ain’t worth much in west memphis, arkansas
three little boys buried in cheap graves
three big boys locked behind bars
until the day two of ‘em die of natural causes
and one of ‘em is killed with taxpayers’ dollars
ain’t nothin’ to worry about none too much
god is in control




When God is Gone

God and the little girl who created him
from unrequited Daddy love
are dead and buried beneath
Capezio tap shoes
poems that rhyme
shredded report cards
and plastic jewelry

goddamn they would both
come in handy tonight

my face burning from zit cream
my heart breaking again again
like the cheap shit you find
in dollar stores

today at the library my husband
checked out a book on pregnancy
after the age of 35
i am almost 34
and not pregnant
tonight the blood is a pale pink taunt

my brother is miles away in texas
i cannot hug him
or buy him a burrito
i cannot tell him
that he has schizophrenia
and i am interested
in his survival

i am a hunk of cowardly meat
shaking with sobs
raising my stupid fist
turning it into an open palm

please. whatever gods are willing
to receive prayers from a woman
who is not willing to make any
sacrifices or promises.
whatever gods that don’t have a problem
with not being believed in.
a reprieve. a reprieve.
some measure of peace.
enough ground to stand on
before the waters
swirl.




I NEED A NEW RUG!!!

I need a new rug. One that won't make me nervous about muddy boot tracks. One that won't make me wish it could fly me away to Nepal. One that won't make me feel like a cockroach masquerading as a human being. Can you tell me where to find such a rug? Can you sell it to me for a dirt cheap price?

I clink the ice in my glass and toast Henry Chinaski. I burp as I watch the skinny girls with big smiles dance their asses off in hopes of becoming Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. I watch rich siblings working out their dysfunction in style. Their complexions are no better than mine.

My Little Pony gallops to the Land of Ice Cream where everything melts but there is nothing sad about it unless you're diabetic. I'm not.




Gluttonous Billy Goat of Life

This little gluttonous billy goat of mine
this rapacious fucker of life
this ravenous male herbivore
does not eat tin cans as rumored
but he will eat my manuscripts

Come on, Mister Thoroughchew
eat mommy's useless verbiage
eat mommy's Dangerous Hair
eat mommy's Arsenal of Spitwads
eat mommy's eBuLLieNT voMiT
eat mommy's Nova's Gone Potty
eat mommy's Thick Lazy Tongue
eat mommy's Mordiscado
eat mommy's Monkey Bite
eat mommy's rejected poems & journal fragments
then you will be the smartest & most useless
little fucker on the chopping block


Please take a little time and read Misti's blog. It's here. She's coming out with a poetry anthology and needs submissions, like, now.