spider femme muse | by Laura McHenry

A confession I should make. Perhaps stutter. Find shelter. Fund shelter. Run into become the shelter. Waves that act brazen around the shore. The shore not minding. The storm winds picking up. The captain and crew moving to the mainland.

The film real keeps spinning. Cinematropolis diving into me. Kissed by the soundtrack, humming fans.

The femme fatale looks back at me. Do you ever look back? Ever thought of the mind of the bat? The low caress. A snake hisses in the grass. Somewhere the grass is cut and the snake is chopped as well. –

Let me paint my lips purple.



Laura McHenry, hails from around the Seattle area, may or may not want to change her name. She/her/they, queer as a unicorn and a tarot deck. Can be found in the woods, reading poetry, playing with cinema and trying to make sense of her mid-twenties. Twitter handle: @LauraLmchenry. 

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