Poetry from Miranda Max

Period Poetry

I’ve started writing Period Poetry-
not time pieces but
about blood
and clots
and cramps
aching muscles
dirty bed sheets
and red-stained underpants,
about the something
that has been murdered
in between my legs
and my reaction always
being both disgust and awe-
I long to apologize
yet justify,
I want to show you,
“Look! Look! Look!”
and hide it.



I’ve stopped cleaning
because they don’t clean
and I’ve stopped caring
because they don’t care,
with a ripped fingernail
and dog hair,
I’ve stopped drinking in public
because they expect me to get drunk
and I’ve stopped fucking
because they always expected me to fuck,
with open doors, front and back
and a skinny skittish black feral cat,
I’ve stopped listening to the news
because the news never stops
and I’ve stopped brushing my hair
because I can’t outwit the knots.



she’s gone to sleep in her bathrobe
eats her meals over the sink
and when you and her are talking
“your eyes say differently,”
she thinks.


The Good Friend Accomplice

She said, “I’m the one
who’ll be your accomplice
when you murder one of your lovers.”

And I said, “You’re a good friend.”


A Laundromat

A laundromat
a town over
occupied by these
from towns over,
an obese woman
wearing shorts
that let massive legs
breath and
meet spring breeze,
a wealth of disease
on handles and
and metal baskets,
girls wearing lots of eyeliner
have little sisters
and mothers
around here,
15 minutes more
5 minutes from home,
this Asian couple who
roam the American way
ancestors of Tibet
in their blood
in these cycles,
a spinning
a drown
these electric hums
this buzz of
middle class,
a white trash couple who
could be beautiful
if given the means
her jeans could be designer
her dreams in a bottle
of generic detergent
wash away the stains.

Miranda runs Pigeonholed Press, where she features friends, friends of friends, total strangers, and her own creative work. You can see more of Miranda’s poetry at her blogspot and here, at Pigeonholed Press. Miranda also runs an online thrift shop/vintage blog called Pigeonholed Thrift.

One Response to “Poetry from Miranda Max”
  1. john says:

    Omg , I love this ! So dry and hateful and anger yet at peace. The line of the Knots outwit you and stopping the whole pattern . Where has all this emotion been?

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