Poetry Suite by Sophia Holtz
"here’s a trick made by time: I look in the mirror
& I’m a whole new girl”
Poetry by Sophia Holtz
+++
a dead girl by the water
after twin peaks
you can lie for your whole life. you can lie
to anyone with the right face. fill your body
with precious metals. drink something burning
in your sleep and wake up hungry for smoke.
tell me what’s behind the curtain—is it another man
like you? bury him in the dirt with bird bones
and fake flowers from the drug store.
give his porno tapes a viking funeral on the river.
you will find his keys under his pillow. take them.
he would have wanted you to drive that truck like a king.
eat all your meals with the dream people
in the middle of the night. they will come to you
in many forms. they'll order coffee in short whispers
and ask to read your smooth palms.
+ + +
doppelganger
after twin peaks
don’t say you’ve been searching for me
when we all know where I go after dark.
the earth has many secrets
to swallow up with the sinners.
if you lie all the time everyone learns
to understand you. I’ve been to very few places
that smell clean as the pines—
places nothing like an empty hotel hallway.
here’s a trick made by time: I look in the mirror
& I’m a whole new girl. my face is prom night
& everyone’s gonna stay up late
drinking by the falls. that water can drown
all we’ve hoped for. listen, when I said I love you
what I meant was would you like more coffee?
—everyone who leaves this town
has to leave me first.
+ + +
spend your nights watching television shows about murder
& not thinking about who is gone
every night a body washed up from the ocean
& I recognize no one thank god. every night
a new string of questions no water can answer.
I am not looking for you any more because you are not dead.
you are not dead because you make your life in patterns
like any other human. your pattern is to leave
everything behind. keep this locked in a box
like a weapon. I suspect everyone disappears
when the camera pans away.
+ + +
a girl walks home alone at night
after the film of the same title
our home pumping oil in the dark
our town is a bad place following me
like a stray you creep black robed
put on your makeup with the lights out
keeping silent save for where it counts
they'll find cuts on all the bodies
all the bodies in the ditch we ignore
because they're a fact of living here
it's a true true thing are you come over
meet me by the power plant on a night
with no moon
+ + +
Header image courtesy of Igor Moukhin. To view his photo essay "Holy Mess," go here.
Sophia Holtz is a writer, performer, and sometimes-illustrator. She has featured in bars, colleges, and the occasional basement throughout the United States. Her work has appeared in RHINO, decomP, H_NGM_N, and other journals. She received her BA from Hampshire College, and is a MFA candidate at NYU. Find her online, here.