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Lily Ladewig

Goodbye Bed-Stuy, hello phenomenon.

Wedding Party

I am asking you
to pour some sugar on me
while I bake our wedding cake

then traffic me
to the dining room.

Inside a pool of glass.
Outside a pool party.

I am loving my watermelons
just as the government
has asked me to. You see,

I am a casualty
of the cruciferous. Who knows
the difference between
Dickensian and dictionary. Who takes
umbrage at an open-faced
flower girl.

Last night I traveled
to the far ends of the buttercups
to walk your horses back.
Midnight. Then Ginger.
And what to do
about the barn cats?

This morning I rained
inside my dress
having left my mother’s trousseau
in California.
It sits looming
on Telegraph Avenue.


Is that it, you are beautiful? Come out and play. But I’m sorry for the morning, broken gray and squarely with. I only wanted to be happy in my own way. The screen hid the hart from what drove the flocks of seabirds on the sand. His reaction—same answer. Which road—$8 2 Dozen Roses. The way I want your face: ferocious. The way Francesca pronounces “pan cakes”. The words staggered to their feet. Won’t be long before the bed is on display. Didn’t you see him give me the thing? Said “Kopfkissen”, said slowly “I am not several pieces of the army pulled from their source, this bowl of better [sic] lemons.” And if the Carolinas are a few poems with noble heads, we should get married. To live to be a thorn in his side was perhaps patches. Only now do I understand your position.


Goodbye Bed-Stuy, hello phenomenon. This conduct is cleansing and excellent. That seemed to prevail both within and without. Large feet, large bower, a large waist, and large I was. A twenty to thirty foot battlefield. We would all die from a fall from a horse. Which shows gentle. 'Tis all I dare do, madam, but King Street will have him. A bug on the floor to pawed at. A rightly so kind of gentleman. Teeth chattering and he looked blue at the screen. Watched Amy baking cakes with pink frosting. Where we are on the cockeyed caravan: London, Alabama: Paris, California. That might be crushed like a rose leaf. There.

Lily Ladewig's work has been published in Drunken Boat, Invisible Ear, Juked, and the Adirondack Review, among other places. She lives in Northampton, MA.