hard luck muse. By Eliana Vanessa

my muse talks broken gargoyle--

                  some kind of trickery;

                  the cracks run through him,

ejaculating neon,

like so much insanity.

he spares me

        the Xanadu business card,

                                    cums hard

and explains how the rain ruins

            the bodies of buildings

                                naturally.

he spits fire with spirit’s misery;

                       sports Black Sabbath t-shirts;

smokes filter less cigarettes;

and genuinely doesn’t give a fuck

         about saving my skull, or anyone else’s,

                           from any kind of bad luck

                                       or evil eye.

    Eliana Vanessa is originally from Buenos Aires, Argentina and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana at a young age.  Her poems have been selected for display via a community project called St Tammany Poetry on the Streets, and she recently participated in the Jane Austen Festival (2017,2018, 2019, upcoming) as part of a panel of other selected poets.  Eliana Vanessa’s work appears in Siren’s Call, The Horrorzine, The Rye Whiskey Review, The Ramingo’s Porch, Fearless Magazine, and the anthology, Masks Still Aren’t Enough.