Thank you always for you.
For all of your Selves – your Hells;
if it indeed plays out that
we can burn alive in more than one –
let it conflag around us
for there is no other wound
I’d prefer to endure
than the hot kiss of a She-Devil
who rents us a room;
be it red-lit and ready for She-Rage;
I say Fuck to Repenting.

Our words are the aloe / our tongues the spit
that can seduce a million demons in one lick –
When God is ready for us, sound the alarm
I’m still waiting for Him / to donate alms

I’m gonna settle down
amidst all the tests / analyzations –
Let me see that Rorschach:
it looks an awful lot like me
in profile, I’m a real beauty ~
Might I suggest a doppleganger of Ye ~
and I’m not embarrassed to say,
the crazy ones make me hottest to this day –
so let’s stay put, Whaddyasay?

My dad was Chief Psych when I waltzed about the Ward
how’s that for a test,
                 – not sure how my therapy went
since my pain was integral to one Honest Irishman.

I digress Sugar,
bring that Inpatient Portfolio up in here
I’m gonna deduce the shit out of Her
and still leave some for supper-
all Dante, Gay-folk and Witches invited.

Just no Jesus Thumpers;
please, no Shrinks.
Only got room for me and you, crazy style…
so Baby-Doll, don’t you blink.

Elisabeth Horan is a stay at home mom in Vermont, caring for her two young boys, feeding the animals and writing her heart out. Her goal as a writer is to bring attention to issues that she cares about and has dealt with personally: mental illness, sexual abuse, the plight of nature and the environment, and those suffering in isolation and in pain.

She has just earned her MA in English and Creative Writing at age 41 from Southern New Hampshire University after an 18 year pause in her education. She is now pursuing her MFA at Lindenwood University.

Elisabeth’s poetry has recently appeared in The Feminist Wire, Dying Dahlia and The Murmur House. She writes to survive.