Eris Returns
A teal bob, and brick red lips—
always smoking a cigarette.
Her mirrored sunglasses reflect this wasteland
as the sun sets behind the mesas.
She lights up, tell me what you’ve learned
these last nine years. Do you know how
to make an explosion? Do you create chaos
for boys and girls who already think
it’s sewn in their skin?
She hands me a shiny gilded apple—
I cut it down the middle and see the sacred
star of pips. I pop them out one by one,
I smirk back at her and say:
I’ve been planting seeds all afternoon
Marisa is a poet, bruja, spirit companion, and contributing writer for Pussy Magic.
Growing up in the Southwest influenced her magickal practices, and she considers herself a kitchen witch. In her free time, she enjoys reading about the Fae Folk, scandals in Old Hollywood, and the spirits of the sea. She is obsessed with kitschy motels in the desert, mermaids, vampires, and pinups. In her twenties she attended UEA in England, and misses being able to sit in pubs, people watch, and write.
You can find her on Instagram, Tumblr, and Twitter @thesweetmaris.